one

do not be upset

for long dear 

youth

stay sturdy in 

your truth

#katyamills

march 29

we were young 

the wilderness was calling 

ice broke up on the river 

startling the eyes the stars 

the skies       

#katyamills

this

the insecurity of youth has passed
with its hunger for identity
and dearth of belonging

oh! to feel this much
closer to
home

life @25

1998. love life lacking. movement from ocean side of florida to inner city chicago. dreams of cultural context to inspire, a wealth of journal entries in a leather bound book given me by my brother. i ride on two wheels manufactured by japan. running away from something, i don’t know what. i haven’t learned anything outside of books. i hunger for the streets. i don’t know why. i had it really good. privilege. soft and sea bound. i am about to get what i asked for and get my ass kicked @ 25. willingly.

pearls

life got painful

you couldn’t take it anymore

so you found a corner to cut

you got caught

you were young and that’s what we do

we make mistakes

we are reckless

learning to live

today the pearls are strung

thrice around your

neck

turkish coffee drips into ceramic

sheltered inside your hands

nails

translucent like newborn sea shells

all that ever happened

in your eyes

what you think of yourself

a parliament of youth came together in the U.K. to talk about issues and I watched them on c-span. the most spirited among them stood up from the green leather cushions and waved arms and smiled toward themselves, you could see. I was drawn in by the process. these kids with their fantastic regional accents trying the whole chamber, the whole house of commons, for some eloquence and persuasion. may be what you think of yourself in the end that triumphs.

typewriter.ten

I was a proud twenty and five and wasn’t gonna grieve some misspoken awkwardness in a common beehive. The world then was an accident before it got taped off, a natural intoxication, a Dionysian dream. How could I turn away? I wanted to be out on the streets and not miss a thing. Only when confronted by the sadness of financial insecurity in a large American city, would I submit myself to a nine to five, pushing papers like a mule. I was young and full of pride. I skipped down the sidewalk, afternoons away from work. Whatever I witnessed I either photographed or wrote down in my journals, then took home to type up — only that which had captured my heart.

youth too

we are young -ii-

i hurt by all the friends i lost
by my involvement more than anything

 they ever did

a revolving door of well-meaning kids

who tried to help this kid

when this kid was deeply

 unreachable

now and again a horror
such a demon at times

 i been

have i healed or will i ever
be so terrible you will
not wanna remember me

turn the blinds down
light up the no vacancy
keep me far away

have i done the same

 to you

i believe i suffered

(before and after you)

i am young

lead me — oh! — very young what

of darkness and derision

 to faith from

indecision

inside out of me

— of us all — like

vapors we pass

 through

change us
i am sorry

as we get older i believe

 in our presence

we are young

young

we are young

The days run away and I cannot do anything about this, I do not understand my age. I suppose we are all very young, even the very old, and this appeases the cruel god who comes out from time to time to command us away, life changes and we are not welcome anymore…
you are done with me and i am done with you and all our messy nonsense of two thousand three hundred forty-five yesterdays. I cannot say what came over me but i remember crying when i knew i was no longer gonna be protected or saved. I was to be blooded and charged with my Appetite For Destruction and to carry all the old Lies again, in rare form; they coulda made a fine killer of me, at the academy…
what I want to say is, losing you, this was one of the saddest of neverending losses, what i wanna say is sorry. and you have no need to forgive me unless it helps you — please — i think i forgave myself but i wonder — when i hurt — thinking of all the times you told me fuck off  

before i finally did

in my twenties and thirties

i was the kind who got kicked out of bars for mouthing off, demanding attention, who wandered off and misplaced myself in different American cities, found myself thirsty, dazed and alone some afternoons, in alleyways woke by the sun, after nights i would rather have forgotten but stand in my memory still … yet i could always find refuge in the nearest public library or local reading room where the silence could be so loud, you could even hear fingertips striking keystrokes to the tune of the turning of pages, and there in the warmth of centuries of collective wisdom could i manage to wonder how am i alive? there must be a God or the spirits of my predecessors looking out for me, i am so blessed and cursed, i am … my twenties and thirties were absurd at times, my natural privilege did not always work for me because i convinced myself i oughta earn anything. of course i held a job down most of the time and was responsible about rent and stayed mostly out of jail. i was neither thief nor leech on to another’s good fortune; i mean i made and paid my own way. i was often in a relationship. i thought i was in love a couple of times but in the end i wouldn’t work for it, i wouldn’t make the sacrifices and maybe, just maybe, i did not want to be loved. i was critically self-centered and bursting with pride as i walked solemnly toward my next humiliation. i think i wanted to be punished. back then, i was not interested in god.

Shine cafe in Sacramento. photo by K