hk

love hk. 4 what will not cannot be assimilated like you love your own uniqueness. love hk

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boiled coffee mixed with cream

this morning i am jumping jacks

boiled coffee

mixed with cream

this morning is the day

you came into this world and

i am calling you

my kitten an alarm clock and

got me out of bed

i cook for you and me

the tibetan bell

the heartbeat

the love of my life

on the road again

i cannot count my blessings

but

i can sit here at my desk

beat up the old english

language for a while

all what makes life @ 46

worth living

alto

she swims alongside the current she

follows the sun into the sea

after many days of searching they

presumed her drowned


they knew nothing of the changes or

how she made it through


she may as well have died


she cuts through open water 

she moves the breath of life

she has come awakened

to meet the deepest sea

be like a poem never will be written

how does one describe the exhalation of breath

the incomplete gesture the

tangible space suddenly

apparent?

there is a part of me died with you

a fragment

a trailing cry pulling at my hair

wanting to lash out and

break…

something to see

the color of blood as

a way in

as a way out

to look for you

all this is like a poem that never will be written

to die to find you

to leave this alien place premature

and come home

k #archive

Atlantis, times three

Posted on July 28, 2013 by KatYa

i am trying to find myself

between commercials

apparently

i am located

somewhere deeper

than that

Atlantis

times three

i remember almost dying

the weight

was too great

i got

stepped on

like flagstones

I saw you there

we could touch

almost

through our

imperial pints

of tears

drowning

Atlantis

times three

i got stripped

like a stripper

but without

so much

a choice

off the walls

in the paint

in the darkness

the memory

faint

gracefully

i laced up

to give them

something

2 remember

gracefully

i tried then

2 forget

sometimes

i grabbed the knives

in the kitchen

and turned

toward them

screaming

its real painful

to look

i could drown

in it

Atlantis 

times three

i found me

by looking

baptized

by watercolor

bled down

in the city

bled out

to the valley

sweet canvas

of colors

shelters me now

the painted walls

i like to

leave them

this way

i am different

i am young

my spirit

touched by

the sound

of the colors

dripping down

Atlantis 

times three

is where

i am found

-Katya

July, 2013