You are in Paris and I’m here…
You are in Paris and I’m here A Poem by Coyote PoetryWe cannot forget love. You are in Paris and I’m here… I hurt myself again today and I allowed you into my… Continue reading
You are in Paris and I’m here A Poem by Coyote PoetryWe cannot forget love. You are in Paris and I’m here… I hurt myself again today and I allowed you into my… Continue reading
(Johnnie and his baby girl in 1996) A cradle hymn. A Poem by Coyote Poetry In a child eyes, we learn what love is. A cradle hymn…. Hush little baby. Don’t you cry.Daddy… Continue reading
Beautiful Laura sat by the sea A Poem by Coyote PoetryBeautiful places and things can’t be forgotten. Beautiful Laura sat by the sea…. I sat in a field of wildflowers.The scent of the… Continue reading
Maybe Bukowski? A Poem by Coyote PoetryYears ago. I met Bukowski in California. I didn’t know who he was, at the time. He read my work and he told me. Good stuff and we… Continue reading
The poet and the naked lady… I fell in love with a long-legged woman, her eyes of never-ending questions and her flowing auburn hair stole my voice and my eyes. I ate breakfast… Continue reading
The cold night whispered… The April rain hid my tears and I walked alone. Once great love turns indifferent and our love true turn to fathom dreams. We spoke careless words, maybe true,… Continue reading
Another time, another place…. The loneliness man at Fort Hood volunteered for missions in Central American. He wanted to escape everything, and he wanted to taste the Hemingway’s tropical paradise. Once he sought… Continue reading
The Waltz A Poem by Coyote PoetryThe ocean and love create emotions and passion that stay with us forever.” The waltz…. (Was publish in small press, many moon ago.) We were doing a waltz… Continue reading
I live you Baby…. I told my lover, never regret anything that can make you smile. I told her, come hither, come closer. I told her as we slow danced to the warmest… Continue reading
Love is like a hammer… I left Michigan in 1991 and I sat in the jazz club at 12 pm, trying to write a poem. The Jazz man was playing the songs, so… Continue reading