Tag Archive: short-story

We become, who we supposed to be. Part two.

We become, who we supposed to be. Part two. A Chapter by Coyote PoetryPart two.                    We become, who we supposed to be. (Part two)… It was late… Continue reading

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We become, who we supposed to be.

We become, who we supposed to be. A Chapter by Coyote PoetryChapter one.                     We become, who we suppose to be. I befriended a 30-30 once.… Continue reading

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Secret and lies.

Secrets and lies… I found her bleeding out near the sea. She held a empty Black Velvet whiskey bottle and her eyes were empty and cold. I sat with her and I took… Continue reading

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The hanging tree.

The hanging tree… In 1991, I needed nothing, I wanted nothing. I was seeking the good death. A pretty lady with the saddest eyes in Michigan, she asked me. What are seeking Johnnie?… Continue reading

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A twisted lullaby, maybe?

A  twisted lullaby, maybe? Was the first of June and Johnnie and Lucy wanted a adventure. Johnnie told his dear Lucy; I have loved you yesterday and today I love you more. She… Continue reading

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Just a prayer and a wish.

1- Tomfoolery Yesterday man is swimming in memories of missed friends. Most men, do not know. Every action demand some sort of payment. I wanted war, I wanted to travel and I wanted… Continue reading

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Could you? Could we?

Could you? Could we? Was a beautiful Michigan Summer day and I held her hand. We walked the circle at Lake St. Clair and she asked me. Could you, could we? Outrun the… Continue reading

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Unwashed memories.

Unwashed memories.. At the Purgatory Inn in Austin, Texas. No-one seek to save you, no-one is seeking salvation. Just leftover people finding peace in the whiskey and the sad country songs. Pretty Sally,… Continue reading

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Should of loved you more.

Should of loved you more. He left love doorway 2,500 miles away. The hardest and coldest man, he loved the whiskey, and he loved the taverns. He loved the darkest days, and he… Continue reading

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The Texas jazz. I do need.

“Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault. Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the cultivated. For these there is hope.… Continue reading

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