sky keeps the secret

every november they traveled from adjacent towns for the weekend. crossed the half-sunken bridges spanning the boggy marsh. never to be seen again. a grey sky kept the secret in the eyes of the old spotted owl.   #katyamills

arise

938pm. the silence breaks

arise with words 

and the endless 

expressions

alive i am laughing
@ the past 

@ the future

the sky

#katyamills

snapshot 25

the sky is asking the
water running i
discard my early morning jeans
step into the
peach skin of apartments
the weave of baskets the
morning sun the
life of the

day


#katyamills

journal #2019

i thought i had it but it went flickering off and on again like shoddy electricity or a super big storm. you can have something and then lose it. it's disturbing but it's true. so i glued it to the wall where i could keep my eyes on it. i posted it on the mirror, after the glue wore out and it dropped behind a stack of books and papers. i brushed my teeth to the sound of it, foaming at the mouth. one night it swam down the drain. i broke it out of the plumbing system, what a messy affair. i let it dry beside the jade tree, on the windowsill, hoping against hope it would never leave me again. but it fled underground, planting itself beneath the jade. i watered her faithfully, against the wishes of the jade, until the roots took it up and brought her back to me, a flower. i smiled. i picked her off and thread it into my hair. everyone commented how pretty we were, together. then, that spring, the wind carried her away... when i listen very close, i can still hear her calling, my voice, calling for me. that's when i know i must be alone. and write.

west sacramento. 2019 by katya

overcast

finite articulated outlined forms are no longer sacred. they may be one thing today and another, tomorrow.

our love is murky we cannot see the bottom. the light takes on form, passing through. my love for you is imperfect. overcast.

it never changes.
we can touch the sky.

the sky and the tree

It need not be so complicated
for you and
for me

said the sky

looking with warmth
upon the tree

but when
oh when
will all become clear?

asked the tree
shaking in the wind

when it rains
when it rains
when it rains

you star

you star
you star
you star

you've not fallen
you've only moved
us

chloe the pthalo cyanine blue

This would be her signature, chloe, a touch of pthalo cyanine blue. i saw a photograph of me and you. it made me sad. the tears i cried were turpentine they washed the memory from my mind. skated gainst a one way street, 5am, in the shirt you gave me. i was sad about me and you - oh - the trouble we got into! ridin the back of a dubstep beat, it's too small for me now looking up; balanced on the tracks of a Canada rail, cyanine blue (and she) come by air mail. can we wash it one more time? liquid dreams and turpentine, wash it all away and leave her empty, pthalo blue, deeper than the sky and the chalk on the cue. side pocket holdin the chain you left me, and change. can i stop by an give you a kiss? for the flower you shown its color in the sun. pthalo cyanine blue, the signature touch, cause you loved me and i miss you so much.

you were the one all alone

The skies were always one way or another, laughing or crying back then. The horizons were wide and unflawed, or you couldn't see them at all. You traveled another highway, singing to yourself. The sea was waiting for you, carbonated foam rolling up and reaching out for anyone and you. You would walk in and never be seen again. But not today. Not today. The kids smiled when they saw you, immortal in your pain, you smiled, too, for you both knew forever, in a day the way you walked, your hands half in your pockets caught on the loops. The little hands they wouldn't ever let go.  But not today. Not today. You were the one all alone.

i care a whole sky full of rain that oughta fall

IF someone speaks nonsense, maybe you can listen to the nonsense and make sense of it. i don't care if the sky refuses to rain, who am i to refuse the sky for refusing? words travel eons across the shared medias, and not all of them say anything anymore. some say the same thing over and over. some people in your life repeat the same old hurts, again and again, walking over the ashes in the aftermath and trying to pull you across with them, where the coals are still hot enough to burn the soles of your feet. even a few seconds and you may burst into tears. even while you are rejoicing in the adventure of a rekindled life. maybe there is a nuance. maybe we need to be patient and wait for a brighter day. maybe we don't know how long we will wait to have the past fit snugly into the past. seems a cheerful thought to be back in time to when to your words and deeds would go with you to your grave. maybe a few old letters bound up and stored in someone's bottom desk drawer who once was in love with you, nothing more. incommunicado post mortem. i care and it hurts. i care a whole sky full of rain that oughta fall.

Journal # 04.08.15

I was thinking about a friend, today, when thunder gave us a taste of the sky. Frozen water burst upon impact. The fragments bouncing around my feet on the porch. I stood at the threshold. Lightning gave me a sense of the sky. Torrents of rain. God was it sacred! I was thinking about a lost friend of mine. The storm soon passed overhead, and I lay myself down and cried. Softly to sleep with my little black and gold tigers sprawled out on the blanket around me. How come we lose our way with one another? I was not careful was I?

                                                  Look what damage was done. The clouds made magnificent drawn across the sky. The depth. You and me - we sounded so good once! Now we are haunted like a train whistle you hear far away, and you get excited thinking it's coming... but really is passing away.

Oh how we become lost to one another, when we are not careful with each other. I can see us all across the years. I cannot touch you or bring us close. The space between us - vast as the rolling thunder. The aperture getting smaller. The portal closing in. The emotional upheaval still swirling somewhere like a phantom. The hail as hard as rocks, pelting us now. God it hurts. There is nowhere to hide out there. My tears turn blue. Flashes of light spaced further apart in a darkened day. The streets are empty.

                             Would we patch it all together through these flashes of light? Seen and in an instant gone? How does that kinda love survive? Oh look! What damage was done. How we become ghosts, when we are not careful.

Journal # 02.19.15

Thursday. Water became very important to me. More essential than ink. I went after it. I brushed my teeth. Texted someone back. Nobody calls anymore. Then I drank a glass of filtered water. I looked toward the sun. More water. Called the tigers back home. Water. The tigers jumped up on the sink. They, too, wanted to get in on the craze. I opened the faucet, plugged the basin. Tigers drank water. I got another glass and drank water, watching the tigers drink water. The plants cried out. I watered those bitches. The sky selfishly held on to the drought. I ignored the sky. So it began to cry. The stems of the grasses and plants grew taut. A rainbow stole the thought. The water inside me,well, the moon tried to pull it away, but it struck upon my skull. Had nowhere to go. Condensation churned colors and feelings around my mind. I began to drip with excitement. I filled glass bottles full. All around the house. Phone calls. Water. Working at my desk. Water. Lying in my bed. Water. Sitting on my couch. Water. Making breakfast. Water. Like it was going out of style. Coffee. Water. Coffee... a change then came to pass. Coffee. Brewed with water. Coffee! Cannot get enough! Oh yes, water, I did not forget. I need you! (But only to make my coffee). Then after coffee, the diuretic effect kicks in and all the water goes away. I am sucked dry. Personal living drought. Gimme more coffee, please. NOW!

blue. isolated

the blue
  of the blue
    bird

was
 taken!

no

 gave
 the blue bird gave
 its blue

gave it away
to the sky

so can you

give your blue
to the
sky

so can
i

soft so sweet

These words may not escape
the page to tell of human suffer age

the type set down
conformed
now weighs
the anchor of the mind
for days

who knows what falls
what follows
next

in line the sheeps keep ewes
in check

before E the eye
of goddess
rest
before you the Q
only the best

four times the power
of the sun
four times
the grave's recedent
depth

eight days a week
or more
the images drop the
feelings pour

out on to some blank lonely
space some
cloud banked in sky's silk
blue lace

would the words
simply obey
would they scream so loud
toward May

the spring she dips our fields
in green the asphalt falls
beneath the scene

i love this so the path unseen
the fleecing of all thoughts to
clean

i love you long like rivers
run i love you to the set of sun

let us lie together
 feel the heat
and kiss so tender
soft so sweet