exist.ential

I’ve been writing this piece called Trouble ’99 since late spring of last year. I read it in its entirety a couple weeks ago and found it several shades darker than i expected. Which corresponds to one of my three beta readers’ critique. Writing is not unlike painting. You add layers until you find an image that best represents what you wish to portray. Yet with fiction you wanna let it be its own honest creation, which is often outside what you intended. Mixing conscious and unconscious elements. Let it be what it is. My characters may have fallen into a hopeless situation as they walk through the pages, but there is always hope. I think my work is often threatened by an existential mood. I have wrestled in my heart with this since I was a child, one day in the backyard when the limit on life first struck me. So words naturally come out of me that reflect that disappointment. Implicit in my sadness, is how much i love life and all its intricacies. How badly I wish to live on!

chalk it off

chalk it off as existential slowburn -iii

 i was foolish. i tried to convince you i loved you. maybe it was all i was capable of – a desperate time – we hardly spoke anymore, one of us bound to be triggered or hypersensitive or so very much in disagreement we would rather be silent and avoid the pain, stuff flared up anyway when we couldn’t keep it in any longer – yet love doesn’t need convincing – i’ve never felt like such a colossal failure, it’s really fucked, the enduring pain of being alive and becoming more aware of whats really going on with everybody, so few people really making it and us, sad and repeating, start out so well like we do, overcoming adversities and falling in love, making a family where there was none, then stricken by some or other corruption, watch sanity slip away in the residuals, wicks away, sad reminders of love affairs we dusted, wondering how they could be so indifferent to us now, realizing in hindsight how i could be so insensitive sometimes, life gets stressful and the bond between two people begins to fray if it cannot hold. love shouldn’t need convincing but we go there anyway. chalk it off to existential slow burn.

chalk it off

chalk it off as existential slowburn -ii

i dont know how to write this. i want to think before i write, but i cannot. i want to treat this
with the attention it requires. the gravity it inspires. the sensitivity it needs. i am even now
holding back from trying to rush to disagree with you on some of your points you made,
because i do feel differently, yes, and thats okay, yes. however, i cannot disagree with your
overall vision. because this is also what i see. atleast i think our visions of us are pretty
much alike. it doesnt matter if they are or they aren’t, though. i truly believe that.

god i feel like im in church all of a sudden. because my spirit is aching. i feel my spirit through
my body in that powerful way like i did on the best sundays in the earliest 1980s, when my family
was a young family, the 4 of us were tight, we had a big old queene anne victorian to tear around
in, a big old lawn wrapping around her, and a little peke-a-poo dog named buttons. its fur was like
the worst case of jerry curls when she was just a pup. my moms radiant joyfulness at having
all of us together singing hymns on sunday, well, it just filled us up, also. but my dad wasnt
really into it. so the kids werent either. so looking back its an aching kind of spirit i felt

chalk it off

chalk it off as existential slowburn -i

An old letter i wrote to someone i was in love with …

PART I

i guess i have been thinking about this honest expression you wrote to me last night
and really worried that i might not be up to addressing it, responding in to it, even reading
it all the way through – which i finally did just now. not so many hours ago you wrote it, and
not so many hours later i read the beginning and purposefully sped through it so the feelings
would not arise. the tough ones. the ones that are the simplest proof (to me) of my love 4 you.

you really opened your eyes and stared at it, didnt you? i mean the relationship, as is, as has
evolved, what has become. i can tell. my question is rhetoric. and its very fucking discouraging,
traumatic and sad, if i look at it one way. the way i see it all when you show me no mercy and
i, in return, show you none back. why? like the argument by the bathroom that must have had
to happen (even though it sucked royally) so that we could be forced to talk about the things
that you very tellingly reminded me we have been brushing over or forgiving or letting slip out of
mind in a patterned way… to be continued

poetry. k

sure sure sure (circa 2011-12)

Don’t go-o   o-o-o
spans the world and
then falls alongside it as
you fall away


from one
another
and left by your lonesome
you
imagine (poorly) what it would be like to live alone

Had you been (alone) long enough
you would not be so worried
about being that way
(alone) imagining (poorly) what it would be like
to be coupled up again and
being one or the other
you cannot imagine
too well

Each morning
(when you come to)
Slap your face
girl. Drink your coffee
black

Wait   don’t go
be (mine) said the mirror
be ours

Ours be ob
literate
rated short of the qualite
verite

Ob
long
(traces hold on)
in song

Ob
literate
ate twice as much

Still you lack
still you come back
(comma)
feel
comme lit
vulva hood sensate
clit

Cut yourself
some slack
awkward awk
period (time of month)
once honored twice mocked
breast enhance in the fall
leaves something less
redux

Ack
look at that
rack
smiling eyes over the canyon
few inches average elevation
milk shake nation

ack awk gawk
heart attack

Sure sure sure
if you feel it
do it soon
sure sure sure
new
waxing waning full moon

Suresuresure
whatever
the moments momentum
needs your all you

got your attention

Kinda lead
kinda cheer

sure sure sure but
soon
employ
plot
devise

Sure sure sure
remember
memory
ember
the fire
the flame
flickers
falls out
back
to uncolored
to
the same

More of
less

wants you back…
wants you what
you want what
you track what
you back you
backtrack
ack

You go
getter
letter
deliver
soon
let her
sure sure sure
forever stamps
sure sure
those ones they them
thematic
whatever

Go
show her
get her
let her go
to the hills
to the fields
to the small patches
unseen
unheard of
let her

They will
they will rise
yes
sure for sure
for sure for her for sure
they will
we will
all will
get her

So no
more if ands buts
sew and stitch
soul seven sides spirit ways
and able
to table and blood
blood let
her

—  KatYa, 2016

timed to expire

I think what’s happening today, I mean, all the anxiety I feel, it’s because we are timed to expire. So what the hell do you do with yourself, really knowing that for sure? What does a pill do? It goes into the system and makes itself known and gets processed. Hopefully makes it into the system before it’s expiration date cause it’s not gonna be very effective afterwards. Even so, may find its way into our tap water. We all gotta look to be absorbed by the greater whole. Every little drop of you and me counts, okay, so don’t be so afraid. Calm down. You will be felt, you will be known. Maybe you are – already.

EFFING EFFED! (POEM & SONG)

im so effing
effed

once i was smart
now i am dumb
once i felt feeling
now i am numb

only god
can judge me!
ice cream in your face i
scream in your face
cream in your
face your
face your book your
face ina book youre
not listenin to
me

wrapped up in cellophane
wrapped up in cellphone
locked up in cellphone
locked up ina cell

take this napkin
its white
draw whatever you want
its art
stick figures
its wiping an ass
swiping an idea easy
off a perforation

origami and you
and a cigarrette butt
and a cigarette
but…

we’re so effing boring
so effing
effed

reading the mind
reading the stars
reading the paper
reading my lips:
so effing what?

eff you! and your effing
effingness. sir eff-a-lot

hold the phone!
hold the tablet
hold your gaze on me
softly

read my lips
quiet the mindless
inaction

no faxes from Asia
no instructions
no faction

no mickey mouse
fantasia
no brakes and no
traction

no roses
no hips
no more LSD
trips

just vitamins for us
essential yet boring

no banana
silk-screened on a t-shirt
it detracts from the
logo

no velvet
no underground
no Warhol
its boring

personal headphones
sleep apnea machines
no music. no snoring

effing effed

no winning
no losing
no flying
no boozing
depressing the
snoozing

get high like a junkie
on pre-natal vitamins
another pill head
how boring

no touring the world

im at home. effing effed
just eating my grapefruit
its juices runnin
down my lips my
chin

purple liquid pooling
on to Sexus. page 177.

no living vicariously
through the dead authors

the girl after
girl described in the pages

a dirty old man
beats off in a corner
how boring…oh wait!
its the author

from inside the pages
hes watching the purple
drool down my
red lips

how sexy
to know you’re alive
to know we’re alive
you and me
both

how boring
to die

a girl and a
guy and a guy and a
girl after
girl

give me a mission
give me a message
give me a bottle

effing effed
ill crack someone over
the head
with it