ok.friday

some own

some rent or cannot

rent they have no 

home. they do not own they 

are not owned 

the libraries the squares

the public places

the community 

the world is

home 

#katyamills

march of the mobile homes

when water boils down

relationships and typewriters take

dust my health i try to care. the country the past

the future depression a sensual affair

worlds in the saucepan wander the

march of mobile homes. a paved road

beneath which all

life settles and

i won’t

this

the insecurity of youth has passed
with its hunger for identity
and dearth of belonging

oh! to feel this much
closer to
home

sapphire

you touch the sapphire eye for solace

without looking when

inconsolable

come to this country never been

here before

the ones you meet either like you

or dislike you for no good reason

america
a period to end all the sentences running

and running away

a pitch turning colors displaying a royal

flush of feathered tails

have another vodka sapphire eye sees

you home

may sometime five

relocating yourself is hard. i was all wound up and so tightly there was no room for a catch, twenty two, or a finger to inch its way between the string and the spool. the risk was decapitation of an innocent digit, say number two, flat on the ground without its curly-q. the tale had a tail. i saw the end of it, too. it was bushy like a cat’s just washed, having dried. the cat was my tiger approaching me now on the bed, after another long night moving more stuff from point a to point b. all crying in his cage earlier, soaking wet. feeling scared and mistreated. now it was long after my usual bedtime and i was the one hurt and crying after the longest of days. finally lying down @ point b. suddenly letting go. the wind took the kite and all, pulling the spool and the string right out of my hand. now we are free. my tiger and his brother approach me. blondie comes up and nestles his head under my ribs. his brother, pitbull aka bunny, settles down on the blanket by my feet. these are the only kids i have. i am suddenly unwound and so happy. the breeze draws in from the window. we are home. we are flying.

author @ home

bean green

I wish I could call you and thank you for the yummy turkey and green bean casserole. I caught a bad cold so my voice is compromised. Hope you had a safe trip home and I miss you. If I’m well enough I plan to go see the family in Tahoe this weekend as Xmas falls on my day off. The last 3 months have been the hardest yet most exciting time in the past 5 years what with interviews and licensing demands and writing my book and training for my ultra run in March. I’m taking this moment of rest to breathe (with inhalers 2 help!) and appreciate all that I’m trying to accomplish. None of it would have been possible without your help so I thank you. Love. K

little.powers

little.home.base

when faced with fears and feeling insecure, remember this is a human experience we all have, time after time, and see if you can make contact. this need not be full contact. awkward is even better so long as it’s honest. show up honest and come from what you offer. all any situation out ever demand out of you is your own little superpower. you have one, trust me, even if you’re not exactly sure what it is. make contact from that base and you may never be displaced.

when you stay where you are

long enough

late friday. i came home after midnight to fall in love all over again, being with you, your stone cold fixed hold upon my gaze, all the week long work fallen off your leaden shoulders, and then we were both of us no longer struggling. replaced by an embrace there on the couch the cats have torn half to hell, believing in the same god who brought us together, rediscovering the colors in our eyes, feeling the common ground of recollected pain, the loss inside our former dreams… against the bright and soft-focused clarity that has replaced them.

midtown. by katya

trespass. ina storm

There was a storm last night. The wind and rain assaulted the trees and many limbs were lost. A palm frond fell on my head as I was leaving my apartment and I forgot my name and yours. I broke into a car with keys I found in my pocket, to find shelter from falling stars. They tend to be much bigger and more dangerous in person. I noticed a warm light stretching out from an apartment in an adjacent building, so I opened the gate and entered the yard and walked cautiously up the stairs, which were littered with stardust, the skin of trees and wet leaves. I knocked on the open door and called into the light. Nobody came. That’s when I felt the tickle on my neck and realized my head was bleeding. Otherwise I wouldn’t have gone inside. How strange and fortunate to find pictures of myself and my family on a desk and table; I no longer felt so bad about my trespass! Clearly this stalker of me had great taste in art and food and music, I thought, as I snacked on their Blue Diamond sea-salted almonds and sweet peanut-butter coated granola bars while listening to the Jimi Hendrix Experience in stereo on vinyl. They even had my favorite hot sauce and moonrocks, and brown eggs, too. Then some baby tigers approached me and looked to me like I was their leader. I offered them coleslaw but they weren’t interested – not until I drew a puddle of sweet cream across a saucer for them.

Nobody ever came home, so I made the place mine with very little rearranging necessary. I even answered the phones with a catchy name I made up which was well-received, and all of the magical passwords which came to mind automatically, opened me into their systems so I could learn exactly who I was supposed to be, in one week time, and all my new clothes fit perfectly. How fortunate I cracked my head open on that singular stormy evening! Otherwise I might still have nothing and be nobody, and that was no way to be. Damn. Now I’m gonna have to consider paying taxes.