Dear April…
Dear April Promises of warm days was you, April, I am waiting for the sunny days and the blooming of the Spring flowers. You have been my December and January wishes, dear… Continue reading
Dear April Promises of warm days was you, April, I am waiting for the sunny days and the blooming of the Spring flowers. You have been my December and January wishes, dear… Continue reading
First flower seeking the sun. April 20. Nature blessings, all around us. The water, the earth and the sky. We must seek the beautiful places. The flowing river going to the great lakes.… Continue reading
The cursed lullaby Once love was so damn sweet, we had the long nights and the sweetest kisses. You were my Beatrice and I was your willing Dante. Willing to pay the price… Continue reading
Barefoot dreams A Story by Coyote Poetry Good places and kind friends make distance places sweet dreams in old age. Barefoot dreams I met the Sergeant Major nightly at the Bowling alley, dance… Continue reading
Dead man arms Once the bravest man on the block, he loved the darkest girl on the dead-end street. Her eyes, blackest eyes, he had ever seen. In the deadly days of his… Continue reading
Hemingway’s whiskey Hemingway saw war, he loved, he drank and he danced with the pretty gals throughout the four corners of my world. I tried to follow his path, to seek… Continue reading
The word man Many years ago. In 1991 to 1993. I would read my poetry on the coastline of California. I had some fans too. Old woman and young girls. They called me the word… Continue reading
The crazy ones Beautiful lady can make me laugh when she dances to her own song. She is my crazy one. My wildflower who knows open roads and can make the sad… Continue reading
Maybe, maybe not Maybe, maybe not she whispered. We watched the sea and I journeyed into her eyes. She told me. When you open locked doors, spread the legs wide. Are… Continue reading
Longing, belonging and our secrets Lover, lover, lover. Once we loved the long nights, once the wine tasted sweeter. Now our longing, belonging and our secrets, are bloody finger prints on a over-painted… Continue reading