we are not so unlike clouds in the sky, are we, puffy and bleached turning gray, you can see through us and other times opaque we hide our secrets inside us, coming for us and striking through they do, yet still we remain intrinsically unscarred or untouched, reflecting it all sea to sea and the earth, where we travel we leave the residue our prints passing silently along, forensics loves a cloud, made of water and vapor we are and capable of many forms, evocative of endless feelingstates, containing our own electromagnetic storms we are carried by winds and made by trial and fire, under certain conditions we scatter and the streets become empty and clear like the sky, monotonous, monochromatic we are pressured by fronts and driven to tears
I was grown from the earth, in my mother whose very life depended on the earth, the vegetables pushing out of mineral soil.
I faced the sun gave life to the plants, like another plant was i. For when the sun fell, again and again i found my head down in the dark, gaze to the ground, eyelashes a flutter then clasped shut for the night.
Many a fire came over my soul, burning through all of my being. For a time, as a child, they tried to put me out. Still i burned. Incendiary. Until natural i burned myself out.
Only the rain that emboldened the soil to create its next wonder, could put out our fires.
Like a period puts out a sentence.
Like a woman puts out a candle.
Like a man puts out a hunger.
Like poetry and prayer extinguish the thirst.
The atmosphere got crushed by populated space. Entities no longer burned to dust across the border.
Writing was impossible under these conditions. How to breathe again trumped the elements of style. How would i survive?
Outer space border patrol job markets grew exponentially. The highest paid among them was space traffic defense.
This matched my abilities perfectly, having troubled my parents for quarters throughout the early eighties, to play the arcade staple: Asteroids.
See the intergalactic birds amidst our earth birds. Wings made of boron and trace amount leaded. Add a couple elements to the chart which i cannot pronounce. Well. They do not communicate with vox box anyway. Just feelings. Most earth birds became quickly upset and dive bombed the ones from Saturn 9. But the loving blue Jays took them in. They fortified the nests with some twigs they caught in the Milky Way. As a way to give back. These nests, they will last forever.
I saw a vision
When i die
my cells like
a fire in the belly
of the sky
you may someday
Then as life goes you find you get into something so completely, your persona, you know, what you do, maybe it’s also your purpose. You are flooded by it, simply deluged by something no matter how big or small, valuable or cheap, honest or sold… then you look around and find that many people know more than they let on, maybe more than they think they know anyway. Maybe they act like they know. Maybe they know how to act like they know. Maybe they know nothing. Maybe they know they know nothing.
Maybe you’re in trouble. Maybe in need of ssris or deficiency restorative vitamin shots. Maybe you need a friend. Maybe you have been befriended, but befriended’s not enough. Maybe you must be be witched. Maybe you need to eat a sandwhich. Maybe you need a who, what, when, where, or which? Maybe you do not know how. Maybe you tipped a cow. Maybe you need to stuff your face with facebook friends. Maybe not.
Did you include your exclusive in your earthquake kit? Tape your affirmation tape to your thigh? Or maybe they have been overdone, your fears and worries.What if theres nothing the hell wrong with you, anyway? Just experiencing lots of feelings, every day, just feeling your way into life? What if good news ceded from a thorough understanding? What if you can take those worries and put those fears in the archive; zipped, compressed, silenced.
You become salt.You become larger than your sediment trail. You travel horizontal, vertical, and your journey loses steam but gathers momentum. You are way off track. The meaning increases strength on the y-variable continuum. The x-variable gets jealous and steals percentage. The z-constant puts x in chex. Accepts no substitute. Tastes best with y and x. Don’t ask why, go on to the next.
Truth with truth. A wholesome meal. More than a steal. Always relative, sometimes changing, hard to define, exacerbating cultures dis ease, serves her right, culture! With a side of yogurt for acidophilus contagion. Served on a platter to memorialize the cajun. Always tryin to come off as ‘fine’. Fucked up, insane, numb, emotionless. Probably headed to the liquor store to check out again on wine. Achilles heel you cant smother under that blanket of persona perfecta you present to the world…gotta be your shaking hands.
You’re Shaking hands– with your divine.
By Katya W. Mills