the lucky kid

Softened life on quiet streets today. All the bad news backed into shells and shadows or sank into the mud for a second. I stuck mostly to my routine, after and before I spoke with my family over the phone. Now the past may be the past and the future, the future. But not today. This afternoon I spoke with my family. Then the morning became a golden dawn. Then an evening, alone. A holiday. Coulda been sad I coulda been sorry. Weighed against the afternoon’s words, I was given meaning and washed it through my hair. I smile cause I’ve been made who I am, again, the lucky kid.

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come on. december

Oh happy bedraggled

holy days

of three-legged canines

a-hopping behind

humans

Small yet mighty

effort in the rain

We broke the yolk

on eggnog lattes

the last day

of November

Broke the bank

of well-wishes

one day shy of dear

December

Come on, December

come on, now make me cry

you sure aren’t what you once were

when i was a child

And you. And you. And you

may you have

what i have not

Simple ordinary days

i share with you

leftover turkey in

the pot

Happiness? abundance?

I really hope they are!

If it helps

i can sing some xmas songs

on my guitar

For those left in the margins

i will turn it up a notch

awash in lonely visions

drowned in single malt

scotch

it is you whom i believe in!

my extra-ordinary bees!

it is to you my prayers go out while

down

upon my knees

Keep busy pushing visions

upon the streets tonight!

keep faith. keep faith. keep faith

everything comes out the wash

all right

I will be beside you

making colors!

out my mind!

With faith

we face the void

together

Though apart…

you are always

in my heart

easter contraindicate

in our time of dying
-baseball-
a squeeze play. life.
evoking in the mind
some space

i’m gone
hawaian

there’s always something
held down. to rise up
when the powerful
recede and fall

flashing
crashing
giants. the dust all blocks the sun.
you would think the human race
was cooked. done

demonic. corporate. selfie
goddamn! it’s made us all
unhealthy

your bottom line
at my expense.
tax dollars. audits on our common
sense

i’m feeling slighted.
perpetually tense
terrified. in the woods.
dense

gimme some ativan
no. the half life ain’t no good
3 months of klonopins,
doctor…understood?

wait. wait!
stop the madness.
fill the heart with easter gladness
hallmark cards and sugar peeps
high fructose powered
liberty jeeps

give me death. no
try again
resurrection
count to ten

count backward now to five.
multiply by noisy beehive
high division fructose
mixers
pure honey
netflixers

look east
go there
the sun rises also
john returns to yoko
the manson family
now disbanded

atlas shrugs off
Ayn Randed

atom bomb
gets bonded back from the
linear accelerator

nagasaki to some pax
Hiroshima
molecular

non-biblical
Conjecturer
plays out inside a sand dune

a sheep herder finds the body
ghost and holy spirit
burning trees
learns to fear it

4.20 gatherings in denver.
smoking Easter
to its knees

like thunder

All my world had puffed up like a blowfish around me,  then blew a massive hole in the ocean. Like those bastards, BP. I came out like Jonah from the belly of the whale. I had found those goddamn roadflares from my truck. The ones I never had when I needed them, stranded with my hazards on halfway down an exit ramp off the great highway. Well, I took advantage of my luck. The moment the clouds gave way to the sky. I struck a match off the heel of my boot, and lit those mothers. Without hesitation. That’s when the whole thing blew wide open. Pretty close to the time the world was supposed to end, again. The impact left ink trails falling all around you and me. Poisoning my ecosystem and  yours, too, for a little while. Until the great ocean diluted and detoxified, and cleaned up my mess. So life could go on again, uninterrupted. I’m sorry. I can tell you I am sorry today and I mean it. I thought about it for a long while. Days upon days, actually. There was hardly nothing to do. I had taken my usefulness out of me. Fell asleep on the couch in the dead heat of the day. My kittens stretched out wishing their fur away. The television was on. The television was off. My hold on reality was tenuous. I lost a cat out there. Just like I lost one a decade earlier. I lost alot more, backsliding and sliding. Everything I tried to communicate seemed to come out all encrypted. The more I plugged in passwords and master passwords, the less safe I felt. Probably no one but my ex-boyfriend really truly wanted me dead. But I guarded what was left of me, with all that I could. The nightmares cascaded, if I fell asleep in the silence. Only the ceiling fan spinning far above us. The Tibetan bell I hung off the light fixture was ringing ever so softly beside a broken ankle bracelet I hung beside it. When I could breathe again. When I could read again. When I could look you in the eyes again. That’s when I noticed. When I no longer wanted light, but got lit anyway. I picked up the kittens and kissed them many times. Their bodies hung limp from the palms of my hands. They trusted me so well, they could drip off my arms and melt into the air. My heart melted inside me, over this. The trust, I mean. What a fucking gift. I carried them and myself down the hall to the bedroom. Many times, every day. My eyes half burned out from so many moons and full suns. I can feel my age. The surface temperature of my skin seems to have elevated, substantially. My head aches, and my belly grows. The infertility is juxtaposed. My imagination was seen as a dove by a merchant marine long out at sea. Coming home. My spirit is the delta. The heat of the day seems to linger all night there. My kittens cannot stand to drape over me for too long. They want to. But my body, their fur, well, it’s all much too warm. All my world had puffed up, you see, an inflammation of my soul. And this wasn’t gonna let up so easy this time. Not this time. I had done alot of damage, now. I had painted over the woodwork. Restoration was a bitch. All those relationships I chose, over the relationship I most needed. Let me tell you, it is good to live alone. I hope to stretch time out into solitude. With a steady stream of social media from which to drink. With a world outside my windows waiting for me, when I cannot think. I lost alot by losing myself all the time like that. This was okay, to be worn out and all. I could remember the past, I could tell you the truth some day. But the conscious bold type is screaming grade A psychotic. Still fresh. I think it only right to be humble and patient, not slough the old skin any faster than it wants to. Not so much, but maybe a little at a time. Maybe a little like now. I am not afraid, but rather listening to my truth all alone like I should. And it’s telling me things. Important things. Nuances. Sometimes painful like hell, sometimes touching me so deep. I am so sensitive. I hurt alot. I suffer, but not always in silence anymore. I cry alot, but without shedding tears. A lot less drama. The explosion was necessary. A spiritual emergency. The difference now is the break. Allowing things to shift a little. So I can safely think. So the ecosystem can take a little ink. So I can go out and buy my rice and pasta and fry up my corn tortillas in olive oil, while the green beans are roasting, Indonesian Sumatra. My life is a blessing. Any way that it goes. My choices fall in succession, in rows after rows . The holy temple of my spirit, was always with me and protected. This was my saving grace.  She almost got ground out with my Newports, under my heels. I often tried to extinguish her. But I have so much to offer, like they say. I could open a fucking restaurant and offer all day. Anyway. The moon, she is waxing, and the darkness fills around her. I can see it, feel it, know it, be it. The substance, the system, the whole damn thing rides on spoke balanced wheels. I roll them twelve miles, as I get to know myself again. I roll those wheels and the flame delivers like magic, between my forefinger and thumb. My sweet kittens, four brown eyes, two on either side, watch in wonder. In wonder. My verse drops my spirit, like thunder. Like thunder.

Katya Mills, 07/13 @ katyamills.com