'Tonight Is Written' -i)

the girl downstairs

The girl downstairs came up and knocked on my door. I asked who is it. ITS THE GIRL DOWNSTAIRS she said. I decided to open the door, for the girl downstairs. But i did not let her into my apartment. I didn't even know her name.

The girl downstairs is a blonde with a very well low-lit auburn section. She gets her hair done in LA, apparently. I can tell. Nobody up here in Sacramento can cut and color hair like hers. And if they can, I haven't seen it. Maybe i need to look a little harder. Maybe not. I would rather just feast my eyes on this LA situated hairdo, i told myself, and i did.

The girl downstairs was now dragging the girl upstairs, downstairs. Wow. And i didn't even know her fucking name! She was leading me like a horse, to water. And you cannot do that! Everybody knows! Lucky for her, I am not a horse. So she led me on downstairs and now we were like, two girls downstairs. If she had had a daughter, we could have called ourselves, two and a half girls. But she didn't have a daughter. Well, at least not downstairs she didn't.

The girl downstairs took me all the way back through an apparently identical apartment, to the bathroom. Which was WHERE THE PROBLEM IS. I guess she wanted to make her problem, my problem. But lucky for me. Today i don't take on other people's problems. Especially when i don't even know their fucking name. Hello!

The girl downstairs had an apartment almost identical to mine. Except for one key feature. The girl upstairs has VAULTED CEILINGS. Bitch! That would be me. I suspect. What with all the names she called our landlady in the span of five minutes while she showed me the bulge in her bathroom ceiling where apparently the water was collecting or WHO KNOWS WHAT.

The girl downstairs asked the girl upstairs, downstairs, without even asking really, to cosign on her conviction that the landlady was an alcoholic nightmare, post menopause. Well, i added the last part for effect.

You know, i really just had to introduce myself to this girl downstairs, before making my slow exit and tracing my path back upstairs and out of hell. Back to my vaulted ceilings and my bathroom which she had decided was imminent to COLLAPSE. It can be really hard not to cosign people who are strangers with convictions and right up in your face. And leading you around like that. I have to say I was rather uncomfortable by the whole kitten kaboodle.

But lucky for her, I wasn't gonna lead her into the street and allow a truck to run her down. I probably could have, because she was so lost in a zone of fury. But I am glad I smiled politely and excused myself. I said we could talk later, you know, WHEN THE FLOOR COLLAPSED AND DROPPED ME INTO HER BATHROOM. Maybe sometime this evening. I can't wait.

-by Katya, 09/15
(pssst... up until midnight PST, today only, my novel is free on amazon).

the czech (a poem)

'The Czech'
dedicated to Daniela


She held the whole scene
in macro
nested
in her chopped
disenfranchised
hair

She held the energetics
In a moving
fashionable
current
rush

By land
air
 sea
   dream
      scape

original
choppy
draft copy


the lens
through which she
saw was
the lens
through which we all
saw was
rose

in spring
in fall
in summer
in winter
bloom

a slight
tinge of
homage to
tributary from
homeland

which called
and called
and called
and dialed up
incense

hot
hot
choppy
heat

There she was
cross-legged
in the foreground
my friend
the Czech

Choppy Dialect
wraps of scarves
continuity of thought
provoking
action

There she was
my friend
the Czech
dispossessed
brilliant
provocative

Having traveled so very far
her heart
wrapped in silks
placed
non-chalantly
in my lucky
lost
life

She loved to dance
she could recite a mantra
She enjoyed a vodka
and maybe a smoke

or two
or three
or ten
thousand
never enough

She traveled by Jeep
through tunnels
through lucid dreams

When we got together
when she arrived
i felt the reunification
every time
with all my heart
what was left of it

She would
humbly disown
generously loan
whatever she had
if she could
and did

Still I could never
get enough
of her


We traveled by Jeep
when we could
the fabric
our friendship
around us

And the light
many a dark night
collected around her
and sustained us

The light
what was left of it
collected around us
sustained us
until dawn

the light
collected
sustained
the fabric
my friend
myself
And
threaded
the dawn

-by Katya 09/13

'Girl Without Borders' -Romantic Suspense

'Girl Without Borders' by Katya Mills

Katya's self-published novel is free just for today on Amazon
(can be read  on any computer via free Kindle Cloud application)

Currently ranks #89 in the Romantic Suspense category!!
please give me an honest review on Amazon, if you read
thank you!  -K

K reads.... struck by her

Sand Stone

culture push (a poem)

The sea flattened the dunes
And kept on rolling
Claiming land
Mercilessly

Shadowing
Eyeballing
Hunting
Conquering

Lapping its message
Wave by wave into my mind
Like some unwanted culture push


The sea kept on rolling
And rolling
Claiming land
Without a deed
Mercilessly

Rhythmically putting me to sleep
Washing over me
Like a dream...

The children made their dreams out of sand
Exquisite upon the land
Then watched as the sea
Slowly pulled the sheets on it all
Mercilessly

The sea
There it was
Pulling all their dreams
In waves on down the shore...

The smallest children
Got to laughing
At that big old sea
After crying

Trying to carry their dreams
Away from them
That big old sea
Silly sea!

All would fall
Easily asleep
To the sound of the sea
Rolling on and on
Mercifully

Giving back all the dreams
It once took away
Mercifully

The big old
Great merciful sea
With its give and take
Push and pull

Carrying the divine
In its culture push
Rhythms

-Katya, 09/13