six two

America today feels like the same old bedrock of world power we've maintained since the first world war.  a hundred years old. in her shadow she feels like fury and sound under an amphetamine sky. stout moral fortitude condensed into some lone wolf capital minded lobbyist fighting a tide of rising interest rates and people who care about something other than money. amortized forms trapped within a threadbare atmosphere. thinning arguments floated to buy time to solve the latest imperial conundrum. underclothes made of petrol product as we pitch our protests high against fossil fuels... wondering how can we unpack it... formulaic disobedience left unpunished to our dismay. we come home to blackened soot of unbecomings, where before was pastoral beauty. our unified material focused attention on one bloodbath after another through the news feed and sound byte of choice. amusement park of adrenal cells worked out again on the unoxygenated dashboard. we hold together somehow. like polar ice drifting toward the equator. maybe it's hope.    #katyamills

prayer

carries to god then

back down to 

earth palms touch

marked by crescent lines

destiny moves in

and out of self

brokering wilderness

in a heavy

 heart