the mortgage was due
the phone the electric and credit cards
the mercury rising we hit the store early
for milk and eggs and the happy baguette
i heard a song in the store and started singing
along. a memory slipped away like a seal
off the pier deep into
my cat waits on the balcony. all night he waits. in the mornings he waits. scanning the sky. swishing his tail. one day all of this intense focus and patience will end with a bird. in mouth.
i like to keep it big and wide open. the heart. let it thump out in front. you risk getting hurt that way. true. but mine’s got that feature, the same one they put on new cars, whereby the engine angles and slides down when struck in a head on collision. even when doing next to absolutely nothin’, i aspire to keep it real. give thanks and praise. #katyamills
we descend Mount Shasta to a city park at its base, where you find the headwaters of the Sacramento River. they say the snow water takes 50 years to flow through the mountain to this source. people carrying containers make their way around the mouth to the reach the cave the pure water pours from. a sacred place. from here the giant river opens up and irrigates the land. from Redding to Chico to Sacramento. across the Delta and down into San Francisco Bay. the days are hot and dry. this is the valley. we search for olives…trailed by birds. #katyamills
we drove north for hours. spotting birds by their wing marks. coming up with names for bands. stopped at Granzella’s for local olives stuffed with blue cheese and jalapenos. we played our first gig as Consistency of Jelly. we bit down on pit fragments to give our teeth that i fought the law look punk bands have. it was a righteous way to kick off Pride. #katyamills
view from a second story window into a tangled semi-wild space surrounded by the Shasta-Trinity mountains. a choreographed movement. the shadows. from the trees. under the morning sun. superimposed on the earth.
a camaro pulled up next to my vw gti on the freeway like they wanted to race. i turned my head to look but the windows were tinted. i’m probably twice the kid’s age, i thought. they pulled away and you could hear the engine. i appreciate the offer. i rarely drive dangerous anymore but i did when i was a kid. i played my music loud and got amped up. this car i got now, she hits a hundred quick, just by stepping on the gas. i’m older now and i prefer cruising. but i like how she responds. will get me out of any trouble i might be in. i don’t drive much anymore. i don’t wanna go hungry. yesterday, thirteen gallons cost me just shy of a hundred bucks. right here in california.
we met you randomly on the banks
where the river was churning in a
hydroelectric power play
you told us your troubles with the law.
the domestics. the time you did
how you’re not a bad guy
if they weren’t lying and cheating
then… then what? then you wouldn’t have
beat them? we wanted to toss you
in the river to help you wake up
but we weren’t strong enough
to lift you #katyamills
terribly windy all night
gave way to stillness this morning
self disinterest gave rise to self
confronted with an orange
i swallowed it whole
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