journal

Journal # 06.26.2016

Tonight I seem to have lost a year but it doesn’t matter, time is fluid showers over us, slanting down shoulder blades, slips between fingers, in and out of endless divots the fabric of pores, circles the drain and away, guided by threads and spinning. Tonight I am petulant, a tenured professor, setting myself up against impossible deadlines, racking my brains and then breaking. Tonight I am quiet going about my weekend, on the steps of the back porch platformed above the backyard below sky, listening to catfights, a solo calling bird, waiting for dawn and the burgeoning rush of highways, the streaming of sound, faraway, trying to trust, outdoors. Tonight I could be any old brick of clay, unformed and pulled from plastic, rather drab and uniform yet gleaming somehow from the inside out, on a table of hardwood in the center of a studio… with so much promise I could only walk away from myself disturbed, hands suffering and unoccupied, clasping one another in desperation. Tonight I am insatiable as moving water, thirsty as a life behind bars, free from all resentment not worrying about the future, schizophrenic, I could dive into the fabric and bury us there. This early morning time exposure of lightening, geese in arrows across the sky, ducks regimented walking to water. Find me disoriented as usual, unable to fall in line, unwilling to surrender, drumming up another battle, steeled against this order… this morning I make my own cadence, lucky as hell, restless like Cassius Clay, on my toes, laced up, face down in this adventure, counting seams, watching the canvas of the earth receive and genuflect, feeling the sensuous tension, riveted into play, feeling the sweat bead up and draw watermarks… dropping my head back to see stars. and god it was bright i saw stars.  -KatYa
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mechanic of love

Journal # 06.17.16

i may not be a geometry star, but i know how to leave the seven ball behind the eight and take your money on the nine, i might have lost our debate, but i can talk you out of getting behind the wheel, drowned in imperial pints as we are, together at last side by side in some pub, living outta memory, under overcast skies, looking in your eyes. i may not vote this time around, but that don’t mean i don’t know my rights, kid, in no swing state and we are colored blue and shaped like an ass, too. and i vote for you. i have been broken-hearted a hundred times over, but we will get her rolling again just takes a little tender love and care, ima mechanic of love, wavin’ white towel flags to your window, you see, look up in your eyes, those wild and overcast skies, you stare down at me all wonderin’ am i dangerous? will you fall for me again, will i charm you somehow from the outside in, and a bottle of gin, i might not hold a steady job, but see me beside you sunrise to sunset, holdin on to us yet, down calm like the charm, any unfortunate scenario, say, four or five alarm, seven ball behind the eight, and hopeful to disarm all that old unchallenged hate got you heavy, deep in the past where it’s buried, someone who hurt you, and so you need help, you need love, you need someone you can trust. will i be the fortunate one? can i be careful and gentle with you? acknowledge every tear fallin off your face, pushed out on to the streets hand in hand for all tomorrows, or maybe just right now. dangerous now, come here. dangerous now, me and you and there’s no other way.

being someone (twenty someone)

to be honest
i get excited
start believing
life can be
a certain special way

but not
how it
really is

being nobody
and really being
nobody

feels better

than gettin’
all excited like
trip-hoppin’
clubs

the end up
two am to
six

any night
any morning
except maybe
mondays

dancing
lights
dawn

buddha garden
drug dealers
licking lips
circling
hips

being nobody
getting shot
over billiards
on cue

really

being nobody
feels a whole lot
being nobody
feels whole

being nobody
used for sex
on a side street
san francisco

not far away
in some dude’s
rv

who you met
under lights
synched with
sound

fucked around
fucked with
for fun

for no particular reason
giving yourself
to anyone

or someone
who cares
who loves you
cherishes you
for a weekend

being someone
belonging
is real