like water from
fabric you got the truth
out of a liar
like water from
fabric you got the truth
out of a liar
above the sea
a lonely barn flanked with stables
where horses once hung
the sea cannot be
you become a boy
place a flower in my hair
she thunders she
up don’t let these thoughts
overpower you. stressed
detained i see you locked
inside a flame beside
talk to me show me how
you feel. we are water when
we let go
Quiet life on softened streets, all the bad news backed away. You lucky kid. I washed my hair with 100,000 molecules. Each one like the full moon tonight, lighting up life in all the right ways. I made it to the site. I could peacefully fold my legs up under me on the couch facing the east, the house where nobody’s home, facing, pinching my slip as I picked it up and let it go hang around freely, pinching myself. You lucky kid you. All the pages were viewed, in a free sweep of eyes (not mine). To be sure they really existed, outside of myself. Not so easily destroyed by water, heat, air, time. Thumbs rubbing the ink to a fade I can no longer describe. Each curve of every letter like the full moon tonight, lighting up life in all the spectacular finishes. Flourishes. You lucky kid. Thinking of a friend, one I haven’t even heard of in years, a keystroke away, a daydream, attacking a search engine with a heart on a saturday in America, one truffle at a time, pulling lightly on the ends of twisted plastic until the whole thing rolls over and out, examining the condition of my condition, remembering the ionic bond even if it hurts. Life I love you.
And suddenly the long uneven thickening and thinning motion which we followed for days, to some terrifying expanse of the same substance, which slipped through our hands and burrowed easily into earth, endless before us; suddenly jumped up into the air, unseen, and immersed us, standing there. We tried to take cover, yet still could not escape it.
I shivered so long. I knew not would we survive. One of us took on a strange chill, became quiet and very hot to touch. Then ceased to be anymore. Another one then began to shake and call. Overtaken by the bitter salty substance fell out the eyes for days on end. They, too, would soon cease to be.
The rest of us finally understood. We fell down before the mighty moving creature. We prayed. Then cupped our hands around it, breaking some off from the whole (though appeared unbroken), and looked at one another one last time; then took it to the lips and raised our eyes to the sky, open pale of neck, and let the substance seep into ourselves! A most unusual feeling as it reached down into me! Further!
We waited. We then fell one at a time, to earth, and fell asleep awaiting.
Then rose I know not when or how! And smiled! And embraced one another! For we were still alive!
From this moment forward, we drank and followed the uneven line of this great, mysterious, borderless, lightness of mass. Trusting. Cupping it in our hands and hollowed tree limbs. It led us to verdant wonders never before seen, or known! We listened and the sound, once frightful, was now soothing us to sleep. The air was fresh, and colorful at times!
And in the mornings, sometimes, as light awakened life… we immersed ourselves entire, in cool and friendly waters still. Life would never be the same.
Who would go standby on an afternoon flight, from Phoenix to Detroit ¿?
Mostly good people, apparently.
I watched them straggle on up to the gate, thankful and relaxed.
One kid was tryin’ to get his baby sister on the plane.
Another two dudes, smiling, said they were gonna go to Vegas, if they didn’t get on.
Another offered to give the flight attendant a hug, when she got the good news.
I sat and watched. With my ticket back to Cali.
Feeling the rock city love.
And i knew in an instant; not everything’s gone bankrupt.
Then I fished around terminal A for a while, hunting for a crust of bread for under ten dollars.
Well, there are miracles. And then their are miracles.
At least water fountains are still free.
cut about the face
a cut above
on a pond
Katya Mills, © 2013
Then as life goes you find you get into something so completely, your persona, you know, what you do, maybe it’s also your purpose. You are flooded by it, simply deluged by something no matter how big or small, valuable or cheap, honest or sold… then you look around and find that many people know more than they let on, maybe more than they think they know anyway. Maybe they act like they know. Maybe they know how to act like they know. Maybe they know nothing. Maybe they know they know nothing.
Maybe you’re in trouble. Maybe in need of ssris or deficiency restorative vitamin shots. Maybe you need a friend. Maybe you have been befriended, but befriended’s not enough. Maybe you must be be witched. Maybe you need to eat a sandwhich. Maybe you need a who, what, when, where, or which? Maybe you do not know how. Maybe you tipped a cow. Maybe you need to stuff your face with facebook friends. Maybe not.
Did you include your exclusive in your earthquake kit? Tape your affirmation tape to your thigh? Or maybe they have been overdone, your fears and worries.What if theres nothing the hell wrong with you, anyway? Just experiencing lots of feelings, every day, just feeling your way into life? What if good news ceded from a thorough understanding? What if you can take those worries and put those fears in the archive; zipped, compressed, silenced.
You become salt.You become larger than your sediment trail. You travel horizontal, vertical, and your journey loses steam but gathers momentum. You are way off track. The meaning increases strength on the y-variable continuum. The x-variable gets jealous and steals percentage. The z-constant puts x in chex. Accepts no substitute. Tastes best with y and x. Don’t ask why, go on to the next.
Truth with truth. A wholesome meal. More than a steal. Always relative, sometimes changing, hard to define, exacerbating cultures dis ease, serves her right, culture! With a side of yogurt for acidophilus contagion. Served on a platter to memorialize the cajun. Always tryin to come off as ‘fine’. Fucked up, insane, numb, emotionless. Probably headed to the liquor store to check out again on wine. Achilles heel you cant smother under that blanket of persona perfecta you present to the world…gotta be your shaking hands.
You’re Shaking hands– with your divine.
By Katya W. Mills