rock ridge

one kind word 

and the new world

opened up 

the obscenity 

the hatred

the judgment 

the old concrete

broke apart

one kind word ina city

of water of engine of 

fire of steam made 

passage 

to the heart

ina whisper

ina vision

ina friend

98

like a bullet with a tracer

ink shoots off your

arm

a bitterness

on the tongue

at work

like a dance the tears

play up the eyes

level the bottle

nudge of the wrist

cold heart heats

up then

rest

you wake to the sun

where you lay

breath and thoughts

in motion push

against

 volumes of

memory

#katyamills

 

MAY 12 2020

i grew up in a complicated world

lots of adult parties and American businessmen

lots of stay at home moms in

competition

 

now

many years later

i make a simple life

a working life

not too many friends

i keep to myself

 

i could not recreate the world i once lived in

i could not and would not

it was never my world

 

i love the simple life

the working life

neither destructive nor uninspired

diving into mysteries

hyde park cafe

all is elevated
this floor over the earth
this table the grain flush
above the floor the arms
of the couch free
falling bodies at half a perpendicular
snaking lethargically like
my thoughts

elevated
eight sided glasses
opening rims up to the sky
fan blades cutting through a plane
brass reliefs flowering
rooted to the ceiling

thursday night
all is elevated
twenty three
high on coffee high on
dreams

JANUARY 9 1997

thin as a grain of wheat

rarely uprooted from his chair

black cat at his feet

waiting for the next meal

the next dream

traded freedom to his granddaughter

so he wouldn’t have to live in a home

eyes red around the rim

voice deep within the throat

bones coated with dust like the painting

of his long since passed wife

hanging on the wall behind him

six foot three he can still

touch the sky

i used to jitterbug he says

and smiles. heart following memory

up the gulf coast

across the panhandle

all the way back to California

when he’s upset

sometimes he swears (the gravel

spitting off his thunder)

GIVE ME THE KEYS! i’ll drive there my

damn self i will!

alone? she questions, eyes bulging

ALONE!

and i

i believe him

you better hide those keys

tonight

 

#katyamills