on the banks of the American River

after the storms
he came out swinging 
cutting chips off a hackberry with his axe
to feed the smoky fire

the whole park deluged. camp sites underwater
tents ripped up off their moorings

the sky turned orange 
all his strength in his arms
he came out swinging for 
the comrades

#katyamills

one five

the river swells

the walls of peat cannot contain her

the plain floods and the citizens run for their lives 

had they only listened when she spoke

tugging on them from the murky depths 

while they swam 

#katyamills

cyclone

on a windy night 

in Sacramento

a massive tree fell and took down the power lines

several blocks are out

now we light the candles and listen

to our heartbeats and the storm

and the rain

#katyamills

waiting out a storm

by candlelight

the coffee strong 

the songs we joyfully butchered 

the night long 

our differences cast

aside  

#katyamills

noreaster

over the blast of the nor’easter

he yelled give er a little gas!

the panting dog of a truck 

fired up she clawed the wheel

he pushed with all of his might

defrosting in the booth 

of a diner a half hour later

they laughed and laughed 

and laughed   #katyamills

off the coast of friendship

we could tell the future

by the birds gone quiet

a change in the winds

our energy jumped

full of dread we shouted out!

like we gonna perish

then the storm subsided

left our faces wet and salty

lush and flush 4 the sunshine

#katyamills

classix

when the storms of life strike the 

rains the heavy winds we bundle up

and hunker down. i was spinning classics 

for days calling out with the chorus

like forty years ago was only

yesterday

#katyamills

(everyone needs) an anchor

I am troubled for her. I want an anchor to hold and keep her from dashing upon the rocks. There’s been time and room to navigate these challenges, to circle and play, to figure eight, collide the waves.

The surface stretches out like a canvas.

I have numbers to make sense of it.

I have broken her into lines.

Now it is late and the wind picking up. Consonants are overthrowing consonants. All must be sealed and lashed for the night. The vowels are howling. Hoping to withstand the harshest critique.

She has to hold.

journal

Journal # february five

A school of puffed up little clouds swam across the sky, chased by a storm, some were not quick enough, i saw them overtaken by the darker water vapors and manipulated into the greater whole. i myself was running, too, through a morass of thick mud and robust grasses, softened focus without my eyeglasses. i split into two and then into four (could have made eight if it weren’t such a chore). i once loved our leader, but not anymore.

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.