efface the place

Such a prodigious commentary rolled out of a disconnected narrative. All the ghosts of old mama Bell had to glom together as operators, pulling and pushing their wires into that old electronic wall. All the calls incoming got patched through, and where hello meets goodbye, a patch could efface the English language, in any such redirection, the power of the women at the wall, operators, any which way. And blue came across the neurons and fired them off like static and clung to the statement preceding. Contradictions were contradicted and life would go on this way through the world wars, and endless series of splicing and bringing people together through a wire. Afflicted with afflictions, some operators were, and found peace only after the in betweens of their shifts and smoke long breaks twirled away. Nobody always knew nothing could turn into something when a push met a pull and were patched away from blue to gray. There were often a few kids meanwhile caught like in spiderwebs, tied up in an apron by a hem.

‘operators at the hem’ by K
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involved

god was involved

When they threw the book at you, you caught it and began to read. you sure had plenty of time, son. soon you were self-educated and ready to go out in the world. in your homemade uniform you promised to kick some pretty ass. you didn’t even bother to comb your hair. a child playing with a deck of cards on a doorstep, looked up when you passed by. they stood up in their overalls and saluted you. that was the moment we knew god was somehow involved.

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I could feel my anxiety in my body, in my blood, and I no longer fought to escape it. I focused on it and understood it to be energy and that it could be useful to me rather than a hindrance. The room was full of people and soon it would be my turn to speak. I stayed calm and receptive to the growing spirit in me which sought release. I asked my heart what it knew, and told it to my associates. The day would be long and arduous. A cat befriended me. When I got home I made myself a salad and watched Dr. Zhivago. The movie was full of trains and war and winter and romance. People were losing their homes, all in the name of the working man. The doctor was a poet and recognized by a soldier, who told him his work was no longer meaningful, that the time of shared personal intimacies was over. I felt the sting. I came to tears. War is terrible and can make hopeless fools of us all. But stay honest and keep about your work, and you will have life eternal.

how we get by

the clouds are still and the earth is moving. i see the others and i want to love them, i do, and i reach out and we talk for a while and the room softens. it’s raining outside but only in a small targeted area which moves as the earth spins. the clouds are not moving, they are still. i know when i look up and see the clouds moving, they are not. what i see with my eyes and sense with my senses, never tells the whole story. i am so glad we have a story without an ending. this is how we get by.

3 books (free audiovisuals)

three books. audiovisual

Good news! All three of my published books are now available on my youtube channel — Katya Mills — in audiovisual format. You can watch or listen to me reading them as sequential playlists in 5 minute increments. If you enjoy my work, you can find them all in paperback and ebook formats on amazon.com and other e-booksellers. I am an independent author with profiles on both Amazon and Goodreads, and a Facebook page. Thank you for your support!

Grand Theft Life
Maze
Girl Without Borders

indie author katya mills 2017

mag.pie

magpie valley summer

i bent down by the river and cupped water to cool my face and hair. the summer was hot as ever and not letting up. you flew down and hopped over to me, where i could admire you in the half-light. little magpie of the valley, what have you seen and where have you been? your tail feathers long and dark, of blue and purple hue, your legs like twigs and feet splayed. cocking your head to one side so i can meet your parrot eye. what can i do for you, brave bird?

you told me of the coyotes and their dens above the levee, and how they walk the rails to get from town to town. you told me of the river and how it made its way. you told me of your kind, long gone from here…and yet, you stay? there is an old man comes from the city to see you, he cracks a beer and lies down with a jacket rolled up under his head. you look after him. he speaks to you in a calm and gentle tone. you climb upon his shoulder where he takes selfies with you. then feeds you shavings of turkey and ham…dear magpie, i am hot and tired and wish to rest for a while. what more do you know? would you share with the likes of me?