A westcoast modern mystic and mother of two.
1. 1991 He mailed me the Tibetan Book of Living and Dying From San Francisco and I knew he was never Coming back. I practised sun salutations for him
By Kat2 months ago in Poets
Darling should not have made the journey. That’s what they said. Let’s face it, a pregnant mother at an all-women wilderness conference was a little out of the norm. “Good for you!” one of the ladies said, “I never would have ventured this far away from the city when I was six months pregnant!” in a way that sliced her down as quickly as it raised her.
By Kat4 months ago in Fiction
She woke abruptly to the smell of plastics burning. Dirty stinky dark fumes. It was still night. She should have been alone. She lay still and quiet and listened in her nest of blankets like a mouse in grass.
By Kat5 months ago in Fiction
Someday you’ll wear your glasses in the bath so you can read the instructions for products that promise to keep you from looking like your mother.
By Kat5 months ago in Poets
The crickets were loud in the grass but Oakley hadn’t caught one. The humming and buzzing dry grass end of summer, one last camping trip, this time lakeside. Oakley ran ahead in the sand and circled round kicking it up while his parents set up a blanket, shade tent, and other elements of home base. Mother found a chewy toy for the baby.
You know Byron? Yeah, small guy, not is small is that Ronny da Rat fucker but is still small. On B Shift. Yeah part a da Newfie crew. E’s on nights now but e’s always got some fuckin liquor kicking round. Last time da crew wanted to burn da turnaround, e fished a two sixa whiskey out a da back a one a da toilets on da secon floor. Water conservation, yees got to get wit da times. Where e ides it all? Secret’s tighter than a clam’s arsehole but I bet it’s sprinkled all over this camp like little gold nuggets. Sneaky fucker.
Welcome to Victoria, British Columbia, Canada. Nestled slightly to the north on supernaturally stunning Vancouver Island is Saanich, Victoria’s sleepy sister burb. We do things like walk in the forest, roll our kayaks to the water’s edge, and keep chickens. It’s big news when local teens are murdered.
By Kat11 months ago in Criminal
First summer dad raced stock cars with the boys The kids got matching butter yellow shirts To get us all the action and the noise
By Kat12 months ago in Poets
It’s caramel. The dot in my iris Otherwise green as Chinatown jade. We were surfing in spring, Together but alone in the black sea.
By Katabout a year ago in Poets
Cashie slipped on her headphones. She closed her eyes and pressed her inky lips together. She wore Palomino by Bite, a bold fuschia lip stain, to help her stay in character. She clicked the Audio Porn app and a green light circled her avatar. Cashie scanned the online participants and selected one with a smile. Ethan Hawke. My mom used to crush on you.
By Katabout a year ago in Filthy
You should practice on an orange. People say that it works as a proxy for human injections, but it’s almost exactly like injecting a horse. A horse’s skin is just that little bit thicker. Practice on an orange a lot.
By Katabout a year ago in FYI
I was born four months after the fall of Saigon. The Vietnam War is an anchor, my birth is an anchor, for the women in my life.
By Katabout a year ago in Futurism
