the meaning manufacturing plant

we have our grave differences

crashing around these rooms

we speak as though what we believe were facts

no. they are just opinions

packaged by the meaning manufacturing plant

i would be sincere. acknowledge the power

the thoughts have over us

and love you just the same



there was no need for it there was no room for it there was no love for it. and yet they sought it out and pursued it with all their might. they walked out into the sunlight one day and stared at the shadows. an unevenness of exposure to light could make or break the composition. a keen and critical eye would detect it differently than another eye. a satiated eye. why couldn’t the earth straighten up on its axis? the old urges had long been defeated. they had stopped making themselves up for nobody to see. everything was off from how they envisioned it. nothing would ever be exactly so. and for the first time ever they felt themselves small and insignificant. they relaxed around this knowing. there was a rustle and a hesitant movement into unknown territory. letting things be what they were and liking them.   #katyamills

burn wheels burn

catastrophic thoughts

churn through my head i

grab the nearest

bicycle and burn the wheels

off the spokes


sugar skulls

inside our sugar skulls

the thoughts hold the key

we mill them with cider

from apples in the tree


cycle 1

bending the river

we cycle through 

minds meandering

gears clicking

hearts pumping

thoughts and chains 





i was overthinking again

ideas spillin out my head like a fountain

makin some rainbow mist

a little kid appeared on the sidewalk

started collecting the residue

grasping it weighing it

galloping away on it like some strange 

new toy 


clingy vines

on the first of august 

he contemplated murder and suicide

she was with another man now

he picked up the brushes 

instead of the rifle. drew some clingy 

vines over a fence. they was

only thoughts 



rumination was a book labelled dnf

i dropped a gear and gripped the throttle

got the hell out of that small town

cubic centimeters pulled all the thoughts away they

got tore up like roadkill

my mind made space 4 all diverse 



real time

thoughts accumulate @ the corner of up and down just above freezing
mufflers give away ignitions in the silence behind double pane motel glass
corner of down and up on the back of a harley feeling the torque
insane or sane we are the strange circumstance of being in this world real time




sitting pretty on the front porch 

calling you

year after year

my feet bare upon it

the flagstone 

stops the thoughts