worlds like poems

some are clear bright 

and calm others messy dangerous 

and deafening some 

endure others gone in an instant

collective memory keepin them alive

like poems worlds begin

and end  #katyamills


composing worlds in solitude

what a way of seeing something missing

bringing into being what

you seeing

they can go there 

all who belong


current z

the boy made worlds

where they could live

the girl commanded the currents

to lean back 

not take no one

too far out where they 

would or could

get hurt 



a great pond formed at the point 

there where they gathered for tales

had been told. all had gone quiet 

the fireflies formulating a slow beat of light

the pond dried up all its ink seeped into 

the paper earth. another word another 

world would never be  


door 4

I looked around the room and saw the goodness in the space. I will be writing many books in this room, I told myself, so far I have written one. The room feels magical to me. Spacious. Full of books. Three doorways: one to the kitchen, one to the closet, one to the city streets. Oh! And door number 4. The one which opens up to new worlds.