The hills and the Apache.
The hills and the Apache. I had two bottles of good tequila. A bag of some fresh lemons and some salt.I drove for three hours to the California fault line.Do some free-climbing and… Continue reading
Tag Archive: Writing
0 Comments
A mad man prayer.
A mad man prayer. A Poem by Coyote Poetry Love can create a madness. A mad man prayer. I woke up with your name on my lips. THE PHONE IS RINGING. I dreamed… Continue reading
The dance of emotions.
The dance of emotion A Poem by Coyote Poetry Life is fair. We must give to receive. The Dance of Emotion. A sweet angel was waiting on the bed for me.Her skimpy negligee… Continue reading
The Coyote dancing. The Coyote song.
Coyote song A Poem by Coyote Poetry We need to be free to learn and dream. If we get lock in a cage. We are just waiting for death. The Coyote song. Beautiful… Continue reading
Two out of three, isn’t bad.
Two out of three isn’t bad. I was sitting alone in an Austin tavern in 1996.Drinking the long Island ice teas.Trying to get blinded. An old man dressed poorly ordered a water.Bartender gave… Continue reading
Where will this road lead us?
Where will this road lead us? A Poem by Coyote Poetry Love can be dead in heart. Awoke with one sweet kiss. (Johnnie in Monterey in 1992.) Where will this road lead us? Love… Continue reading
Gypsy lovers and Irish morning coffee.
Last house near the lake. Was our place to rest. We were Gypsy hearts and Irish coffee mornings. We would find the quiet lake rarely, for we loved the whiskey, deadly dances and… Continue reading
The song of love.
The Song of love. Drunkenness in a reckless love, knowing the true fragrant of love.The blackness of love, the whiteness of love.The dead love, the alive love.The desperate love and the forgotten love.… Continue reading
Resemble love.
(Nothing as sexy, as a woman can play a game of chess.) Resembled love A Poem by Coyote Poetry True love is rare and hard to find. Resembled love Pretty as a perfect… Continue reading
Three fingers of Johnnie Walker. For his Scotland love.
Three fingers of the Johnnie Walker. He went back to Aberdeenshire in the Autumn of his life. He found a place to drink and to watch the sea. He wrote in his notebook.… Continue reading