after the dance these fabrics dissolve
and like your threadbare arguments they
thin into the wind
someones gonna be locked out
of the heart again degraded
like oil
#katyamills
Tag Archives: fashion
projections of a long lost high 5
begotten children descend
planted according to trend
dropped like fashion
and spirited away
taken from vision with
binary ocular precision
Made In America!
by decree by
decision
you try to defragment you
hope for some clarity then
comes trouble. another
greenish colored bubble
eating bacteria to survive
projections of a long lost
heartfelt high
five
living off lip service the echelons
make hay. they
promise to play out tomorrows
today
robbed of nutrients you forgot
who you are. exercise occurs between
edifice and car
doing the laundry
you cycle back to humble
removing the factory tag
carry the sadness ina brown
paper bag
#katyamills
remix 2010
stockton boulevard
down an uneven stretch of stockton boulevard in summer, south of sacramento, i came across a classy broken broad, remarkably postured like a runway girl, walking bubblegum pink stilettos, long tan legs up to daisy dukes, a halter top, don’t stop, the mechanical boyish stroll, dry heat tempered by a bottle blue parasol angled off her skinny shoulder blade, urban electric milkmaid conjuring the ghost, to the tomb of some unknown soldier
lbd’s
lbd. saturdays
when sundays became mondays the world almost died of a heart attack. thank goodness our hair and air were fully conditioned. i wanted to stretch saturday and shake it out, but it was rigid as glass. by wednesday we were a distant memory with no return in sight. i would have to sweeten you up with something to get close again. how about a stringy lbd in an underachieving post? must i sing a song?
book reading
story book
story book
crisp like apples like childhood
i still like apples when they are crisp and cool and fresh, i like biting into them and the taste, it seems unlike life, which is a drag across the cold and hard face of a clock… when i catch an heirloom kinda apple in the palm of my hand it always fits, perfect like a baseball but better cause it’s unprocessed, more like childhood when the skin needs no astringent and all the body is firm and thoughts are clear and waking up is fresh and new and motivation is natural and intention pure – K
indie author K
indie author KatYa
 |
| indie author KatYa |
I am an Independent, self-published with several books to my name. I do hope to become a ‘Hybrid’ author some day, and am currently seeking representation (of course I wouldn’t wanna lose my humanity or anything). I’m proud to say there are now close to 100 total reviews of my work on Goodreads and Amazon combined, averaging better than 4 out of 5 stars. I also blog daily and publish flash fiction and creative nonfiction on my website, which has over 150,000 pageviews to date. I started a storytelling project on my youtube channel, where I read my work and enjoy creating video books, reading and writing have always been close to my heart. I get a lot of my ideas while running along the American River, and ran my first marathon last year. Soon I will be running in the ‘Way Too Cool’, my first Ultramarathon on the trails in the American River Canyon and I cannot wait! I do have to slow down my superhero once in a while and morph into a social worker to pay the rent, and have been counseling indigent peoples with mental illness for over a decade. In case you fancy degrees, I have a BA in English from Northwestern U. and a MA in Counseling Psychology. I play guitar for my 3 cats in my spare time, and have lost many a boy and girlfriend over my screeching insolence. I also roast and drink a lot of coffee, what’s new? I love to walk around cool neighborhoods and loiter around sweet coffeehouses, too.
imprint
imprinted. 4 life
These are not simply memories which are recalled to haunt and thrill me from time 2 time, no, these experiences I have had, the powerful ones, are accessible always, and you will find them in the way I speak, the way I think, the way I walk, the way I feel… you see, my friends, we have been imprinted and this is 4 life.
The life (lived) sinks to the deepest part of you, floating in a pendulum arc to rest upon your bedrock, where all is cool and slow-motion, your hard drive, safe and preserved, and takes form of an emanation, begins to glow! The loves, the friends, the places, the losses, our greatest moments and cavernous falls. The rush of it all, and yet resides in us, and when we meet again following some passage in time, you see the change in me, and I the difference in you. This light is not unlike sitting down with the beaten back pages of your favorite book, water-stained and dog-eared, tarnished and soft in your hands in your belly in your heart on a rainy day, deeper than any tattoo.
A song comes along in the cloud, have I told you how it hits me? Any one of the numbers between 1973 and 2017 and now I am all curled up focused in the center of the novel, all the many faces all the actors situating themselves inside the pressure of my blood. The world is one of endless colors then. I am who I was all over again, and it makes me.
It made me so. Made me who I am and for that I am thankful. I will never regret a drop of it, a day, an hour, a starstruck moment in my own endless night. I may have changed, my dear, but only for the better and only for the best! I am and we are all of the world which has touched us, though we maybe long ago hiked ourselves right off that decrepit map… we found bypass.
– KatYa, 2017
K IS SILENT 