still life ’19

summer got diluted by the stained glass. some kids were playing chess in the soft light behind but they were young and they weren’t really playing chess they were just playing. a fish in a bowl swam the circumference and filled the form. the heat lost its arrogance on the sill. we made the most of it. the dog asleep. the cat, up high and still.  -katya

channel

i found myself purposed to be an instrument of some constituent pie charted and marketed and television saturated and worked, yes, worked, worked to the marrow to grow some boundless fruitless profit margin i would never see nor feel nor benefit from :: i found myself channeled to evolve our nation, grow her right off the fucking map, people, not unlike the old English empire. less colonialism. more land. smaller navy.

i found myself
and decided not
to participate
whatsoever

drama by katya

12.seventeen

twelve.17
the winds rose overnight and compelled us all to feel. limbs of sycamores fell into the streets. the cat brought me a headless robin in a mouth full with feathers. i believe i am chosen to be raw. nothing comes easy anymore. i tell my story by words. life has never been so enticing.

journal

Journal # 07.20.16

My new blanket, sea green, provides comfort against the squalls of the world. Wrapped in soft waves of blended cotton, I am hard to convince. Maybe it’s the celebrity twitter fiascos and heat waves, the political conventions. Maybe it’s the people who let me down. Maybe it’s the many gods, the guns, exploitation and fear. Maybe it’s my great expectations. Endorsements bought and traded and ringing in the ears, racial tensions expansive in the cities in the nights. How we go about reaching out for our implosives. Some of us are down on our luck.

 I am up on my luck and not scared to get close to someone in need. Outside of car troubles, empty wallets, degradations, and syncope spells… loneliness awaits the life of living on couches in cars on corners. Nobody should ever feel left completely alone. If all I can offer is my company, kind words and home cooking, this is what I shall give. No one oughta feel no one cares.
I pray that you will make it and come back to us like Spring.  For now I fall back to my routine, preservation of sanity, and settle down to read of the exploits of pioneers attempting to cross the Sierra Nevadas two hundred years ago to reach our sacred, sweet valley. Thank god for family and community, and cheap, blended cottons. I had just enough fight in me, in Walmart, to open mom’s palette beyond earth tones.