This ground is hard and cold;
Streets are empty,
But not the houses.
There people stir and peer
At me from ***** windows.
A gray ghost, I pass quickly
On long legs and silent paws
To hunt the city's rabbits at dawn.

As kids
we played in fields
miles and miles of of planned and planted crops
that held within them
hidden wilds  

At night
I lay in bed
terrified of the coyotes howling outside my window
prowling fields and stalking  through tall weeds
sniffing out the mice and ground squirrels
chasing cats and lurking
hunting creatures of the night
fearful creatures of the darkness

One night,
I woke to the howling
I listened bravely,
braver than before when I would hide under the blankets or call for my mom

I peaked out of my curtains into the dark
and there
immediately
were two yellow eyes staring back from the dark

I saw the faint gray of fur
saw its mass and presence
but then it blinked
and startled
and instantly faded into the night.

The next day
in the mud
just on the other side of the fence
I found a paw print
just one
a mark
that she had been there
two eyes
one paw

At night,
I heard the echoes and howls that sounded like a million imagined wolves,
giant snarling beasts fighting and hunting
hurling themselves against the fence
fangs and blood and wildness

At night
when I took out the trash
I ran like hell to the can and hurled the bag inside
panting when I got back to the front door, in the light

But that paw
in the mud
was so small
so
delicate

Weeks later
riding the bus to school
I saw a coyote
in the early morning fog
thin and small
rushing across the street and
almost struck by the bus

It ran into the orchard
the bus driver cursed under her breath

It was so fragile
how could that be so frightful?

Is fear this thing?
This monster in the dark but in the day does it run
from shadow to shadow
malnourished
with its tail between its leg?

Can it be hit by a bus full of children?
Does it lie in the ditch
and slowly bleed to death
after it misjudged the speed and distance and tried to make it
a tuft of hair stuck in the corner of the bumper
leaving nothing but a print in the mud
a small print
the only clue that it walked silently in the night?

When in doubt for my thoughts and feelings,
just look at your own and you’ll see mine as well.
After all, that’s how these things work.

coyote
          tried to take
a girl

          sunk his teeth
in to that girlflesh
          and ran

shot dead
           by the cops
in less than a day

strange
           that we are
judge
           jury
executioner

lawmaking
            legislating
binding
            animals to our humanity
when they know
             nothing
of our lives

            the girl lived
       bearing the mark of teeth
forever

the coyote perished
            for human vanity
revenge
            reciprocity

Coyote’s mournful howl echoed
in the new moon’s enchanting sultry ether;
breathing the living harmony of the wilderness rhythm

He seemed to sense a soul reincarnation
      within a pervasive spirit light
      an oft misunderstood
      common thread shared
      this hallowed land’s night

An uncommon Zen stirring from within,
              stifling apathy ..,
. . . of rumble deep beneath
      a dormant volcano reawakening ;
      that which lies undiscovered
      just before the ruptured moment ..,
      liberation of release ―
      dust and ashes taking flight

Through open window              insomnia churns
                          fifty shades of blue ..,
      cast in shadowed hues of broken silence

Coyote stirred the stillness
      with a hauntingly familiar cry
      reading the ridge-top echoes
      like the book of my mind

" YIP YIP   A ―W O O H !!! " . . . the somber plea

For it is in these final hours chosen chore
      the recurring torn
      these chains and things

Coyote was going there ―
      to stand these watermark crossroads
      this hour of need

Accepting brother has always been lonely
      sometimes anything
      means something - -
and so it goes ..,

Coyote communes in pulse
      from ancient realms
      this sacred blood ..,
                Om
         the lost chord

      wounded healers ,
. . . one mutual spirit
      runs marrow deep
      where dogs run free

The moan of doves whisper to the impending dawn
. . . always known these days
      too soon do come and gone

What once was a life well lived ,
      s l o w l y     e v a n e s c i n g
      like the summer river’s flow

some say ..." you never miss the water
      'til the well runs dry "
. . . regrets a waste of time - -

Rumination, a loathsome silent reverie
      a taunting unsolved koan

      an unplanned oxymoron ,  
      beget of a deafening silence
. . . dust sleeps with indifference
      veiling a beautiful handmade
      unstrung guitar
      muted - - abandoned,
      tone poems, unsung

and so "re-begins" the task ...
      come what may rise up
      into the dark star's light ...

Coyote was going there - -
      a dawning metamorphosis
      under another nebulous sky

. . . refreshed by Luna's potent alchemy bestrewn
      in her spellbinding lambent moonlight elixir of life ...


harlon rivers  ... 5. 21. 2015