im.print

when i live
crafting these poems of words i
forge my peace with
language

the sun burns on
imprinting shadows
and the dreams oh

the feelings anchored to thoughts
keep me dreaming

as i type across
our time and
space

impress.ion

A stamped imprint is an impression you have on the world. Once the ink dries, the thing upon which you (the idea of you) have been fastened, takes flight into the crosscurrents of daily life. These energy fields we run in are countless! Everything changes. You can become something else in an instant! Years later we will all understand. Only then may they know, by what became of your impression, what they missed.

any one of us

any one of us is so much more

The multiverse has shaped me and so I run in colors, and when we meet we bond by the imprint left upon our personalities, the texturing of all the forces that contour us into recognitions. You are so much more than you. I can hardly stand not to love you not to know you. Come with me.

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