Highway 80 West is calling my name.
Highway 80 West is calling my name.. A Poem by Coyote Poetry I’m tire of same places and faces. I need the road. Highway 80 West is calling my name. I’m tire, so… Continue reading
Highway 80 West is calling my name.. A Poem by Coyote Poetry I’m tire of same places and faces. I need the road. Highway 80 West is calling my name. I’m tire, so… Continue reading
Jenny wrote. A Poem by Coyote Poetry Words can be magic, can be visions of beauty and can make us dream. Katie wrote. Painted words are what the writer understands. Wisp and grasps… Continue reading
You are my treasure. My lovely lady loved a slow Sunday and to bath for many hours in a hot bubble bath, jazz music and little conversation. I would wash her hair in… Continue reading
Just a Black Velvet lullaby. I wrote to an old journal in an Austin, Texas tavern in 1993. The poet doesn’t cry, he just writes some more. Hemingway told us, we, who love… Continue reading
A letter. Sometime cigarettes, good booze and a pen can give a man a reason to be alive. When we parachute blind into love.Even a renegade spirit can be broken.I tried to hide… Continue reading
Love is love. A noble beauty read her poetry at the Austin, Texas yearly poetry reading. Jessica was disappointed with her life, and she read her words to us.“I weaved a page with… Continue reading
The Texas two-step. She was a tall, long legged Texas girl. She gave me a coy smile.Somehow, I caught her attention. I knew, a pursued man are just cattlewaiting to be slaughter. She… Continue reading
The sweetest things A Poem by Coyote Poetry Life is simple. Respect people. Religion should be private. Stay positive. The sweetest thing. I have seen so many mysteries, and I have seen so much… Continue reading
The Devil dances at midnight. Prettiest gal at the Belton, Texas dance told me. The Devil dances at midnight and I brought her closer on the dance floor and I asked her. Does… Continue reading
Blushing beauty had stolen my heart. The drunk poet, he loved the noisy Austin taverns. He liked the people who had fallen, and they liked silence over worthless words. The sameness of faces… Continue reading