#coyote
coyote teeth under moonlight
skin remembers what the night forgets
blood is just a shadow of hunger
I move like wind through empty streets
my ribs echo with its howl
I am the thing that slips past sight
I am the monster that would ******* tear your heart out
Feb 25
Feb 25, 2026 at 9:36 PM UTC
My memories come back
like a jigsaw puzzle
with a picture of—
And if I could do it,
I would, but—
All I see in the picture
is how broken I am.
How I left pieces in Romania,
had them stolen in Ohio,
ripped away in Japan,
and set on fire in Texas
with the southern sun
staring down on a desert Coyote
and the Coyote eyeing me
like a piece of fresh meat
So all I have are the outer pieces
held together by one light
emitting a yellow glow
above a stove.
Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 9:01 PM UTC
I am a coyote look at me
i am a coyote perfect as can be
i hunt little mice and squials too
i am a coyote perfect as can be
i am a coyote with big brown eyes i am a coyote
in a human disgue
i am a coyote look at me i am a coyote
set me free
Nov 11, 2025
Nov 11, 2025 at 4:42 PM UTC
Eyes wild, ringed red, gazing out of the page --
the watcher over the wilderness
does not sleep.
In the forest primeval
there is a glade — the real world
of our filth bleeds in
drop by drop, reddening
the sky, and Öli
witnesses all.
Haunted by apparitions
of fear, figments
coming to presence,
barely corporeal in the dappled sun,
the great owl knows better
than to turn away from the unknown;
The aperture, sealed, was yet
made to be opened, and though
the devil tree, screaming blood, vomiting
anguish into the wastes, was felled
and the blasted heath reclaimed by the forest,
Daring trees grow sparsely
and wither around the gnarled stump
where He who has seen too much
waits, hoping that stupid ******* coyote
does not bring the city back with him
...again
Jun 4, 2025
Jun 4, 2025 at 12:58 AM UTC
Where every thing is black and white
in technicolor;
Where no matter how absurd,
things turn out well;
A cruel place,
but not systematically so;
Where one thing is sure:
when the coyote treads air--
pedaling as fast as he can,
gravity prevails.
Beep, beep.
Oct 7, 2021
Oct 7, 2021 at 8:16 AM UTC
When it finds a match,
the fire sends its regards
for the source of its warmth.
Where heat
and breast floats gold,
I see the old sky new.
Why a mold
that charms cats and brothers
as the offender of kings.
What's more,
it knows
the Tarantula D'amour.
We all burn slow,
even if we die young;
so be it.
Well, let's live
today if not and especially
tomorrow doesn't exist.
Apr 1, 2021
Apr 1, 2021 at 11:29 AM UTC
it was a kiss with coyote’s embouchure, with the river’s casket, with gelified venom, with the apron’s appetite, with compact distortion around portable lip cuffs, with trite lies liquified, with mud clumps in mercury clasps, with spit woven theses, with unwound ovoid wellsprings, with sun-hidden shadows, with the frayed nighttime squish, with closeted hand dice tossed, with chance in the fistfuls, with detuned static and bellyaching bramble, with losing yourself, with entropic dissociation, with fleeting tokens, with sayonara stamps, with honey pumping nozzles, with inside out stratus veins, with the pain of history tucked in the trail fringe, in the pebbles kicked outward, with fried abandon, with seatless balconies, with the touch of an insect unexpected while straddling a brick wall with electric grout, with eyelashes trimed by the wind, with patterns passed, with breathless shapes and shaping dimensions, without the taste of lavender or the mosquito’s lonely thirst, with time passing, with time passing, with time passing, without passing time, with the sky dumping elected dead bodies, with spoonfuls of miracles, with starvation kicking, with moon swells forgetting the fomite sea, with weather inside, with dry mouth drawer memories, with omens and herrings with teeth and tongue.
Feb 26, 2021
Feb 26, 2021 at 12:03 PM UTC
"Do you believe in love?" Asked the girl
"Yes and no," Said the coyote
"Love is beautiful," Said the girl
"But it is also painful," Said the coyote
"But aren't beautiful things worth pain?" Asked the girl
"That, my friend, is a question for the stars." Said the coyote
"I love you coyote,"
The coyote smiled
"I love you too."
AJBusse
Jan 15, 2021
Jan 15, 2021 at 5:20 PM UTC
There’s no traffic in the canyon
Just hitch hiking coyotes
That *** to many cigarettes
But always have good stories
All they want is a play boy bunny
To scratch them behind the ears
Where the truck stop soap always collects
They are simple like that
That’s why I never fear all the teeth in their smiles
Dull and worn down by all the miles
They have put on those paws
When we pulled into the next town
They nodded and got off
Back to the puppies
Or back to no life at all
The sun beams down
The coyote walks
Aug 28, 2020
Aug 28, 2020 at 8:56 PM UTC
Waning dappled moonlight mantles
the margin at the wild-wood edge
Stiff tufts of summer dried grass spears
sporadically sway — raking against
the scarlet poison oak leaves
gently sweeping away the moonlit silence
airing the sounds of velvet antlers rubbing
barkless mountain willow trunks bare
Subtle nuances constantly animate
twilights rhythm; heaven flickers
upon a dark umbrage of forest pillars
softly as a candlelight’s fluttering glow
evanescing half way across the sky;
the sparse illumined clouds stream through
the lambent halo around the rutting moon
fleeting in the blink of sleepless eyes
and like the silent touch of a talisman,
transfixed eyes are entranced by all
the restless night disrobes,
captured and cocooned by the seeker’s
awakened senses
An erratic, familiar feral bark peals haughtily;
a pack of maturing spring pups yip, bellow and shriek
in youthful pursuit; the howling report back,
ignited by the scent of a rabbit's paling squeal,
aroused by the pulse of brother wolf
rippling deeply through their blood
The dried grass game-trail crackles towards the ridge top:
an aging full moon is not enough skylight
to see beyond a seeker’s stirring silent reverie
the coyote choir’s sudden reveling echoes rekindling
an extraordinary sheltering intimacy within;
bending slithers of moonlight into a dull moonlight mantle
but I can feel its weight breaking me ,... forlorn I can't physically
reach out to touch them in an absolving moment —
understanding love was always the purpose of being ,...
futilely repining — I can't face myself alone again
harlon rivers ... October 2019
.
Oct 21, 2019
Oct 21, 2019 at 8:39 PM UTC
J'observe depuis mon télescope
Au-delà des nuages
Ta photo qui sautille
Et je suis les courbes, les points et les lignes
Et je trace des figures imaginaires
Les constellations
Et soudain tu apparais
Endimanchée
Pénitente
Ultra Violette
Souriante
Entre deux ciels
Tu me fais signe
Et m'invites à danser
Et je te suis comme ton ombre
Je retiens mon souffle
Je plonge dans le mandala
De ton champ de Cinabre
Je viens à tes côtés
Je m'ancre à tes eaux
Je suis ton lama, ton gourou
Et toi tu es ma parèdre, ma bouddha
Ma dakini souveraine
et je te déshabille en dansant
Et je déboutonne une après l 'autre
Les étoiles couleur aubergine
Qui composent ta constellation.
C 'est une constellation disparue
Que seul moi puis voir.
Il m'arrive à l 'oeil nu de t'apercevoir
Au détour d'un rêve comme en cet instant précis
Et la musique résonne si forte dans l 'espace
Je vois tes lèvres bouger mais je n 'entends rien
Mais soudain tes yeux hurlent
et tu me clignes ton nom en morse :
dash dot dash dot
dash dash dash
dash dot dash dash
dash dash dash
dash
dot
C, une longue, une brève, une longue, une brève
O, trois longues
Y, une longue, une brève, deux longues
O, trois longues
T, une longue
E, une brève.
Aug 31, 2019
Aug 31, 2019 at 12:54 AM UTC
Just beyond the sunset
the day's end paints the red horizon
radiance of orange, yellow, and purple light
what a brilliant sight.
Scent of wood fires burning
a coyote's howl fills the air
the day's song is at an end
and night's lullaby now begins.
ALesiach © 9/24/2016
Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 3:06 PM UTC
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.
Mar 21, 2019
Mar 21, 2019 at 9:50 AM UTC
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?
Feb 24, 2019
Feb 24, 2019 at 7:22 PM UTC
Camping in the Blue Ridge Mountains
was the greatest day of my life
It was my birthday
I brought a suitcase
and my favorite dame
and hiked 2 miles UP^^^^^^^^
laughing all the way
UP ^^^^^in the Ozarks
Medics were shooting steroids in my ****
BUT, never been more in love
with a man who injects grief in my veins
Dwelling in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains
sensed his vibe
Yes, Jesus I feel you here
held en el Rio Grande con mis mejor amigos
drooling in the hot springs
Taos has called our names
********* the rocky sand that is below me
I find a coin from New Zealand,
in turn, losing my evil eye earring
an offering to spirit's stream
a pair of desert lizards
we desire to get frisky and be alone
we shine silver glitter under a moonlit glow
witches cackle and curanderos
hide behind coyote cries and cacti
looking to each other with faces expressing,
"What should do we do?"
I guess allow them to do their thing
humans need ceremonies too
Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 1:36 AM UTC
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.
Feb 5, 2019
Feb 5, 2019 at 11:31 PM UTC
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
Nov 20, 2018
Nov 20, 2018 at 11:21 AM UTC
howling coyote
great owl's moonlit serenade--
moaning of the train
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 7:17 AM UTC
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
Oct 20, 2017
Oct 20, 2017 at 11:21 AM UTC
The blustery east wind
gathers the fragrant
Warm Springs
high desert
mountain sage,
cascading
downhill
through
Dry Creek pass
surging downward
from above
the Hood River valley,
with breath of sky's bouquet
of billowing
aromatic avalanche,
gushing
of heaven's zephyr
The poignant
sudden starkness
of fiery autumn leaves
letting go
whirling ― falling
helter skelter,
pushed urgently
flying westbound,
beckoned franticly
by
distant whispered
ocean bellows
blowin' in the winds
of change ―
Adrift across
Parkdale
mountain meadows,
Coyote bent,
paw trodden
ripe sweet grasses,
pungent with
waft of mountain sage
and fermenting apples fallen ―
the waxing silence
of the marvelous moon
echoes just beyond
the Lost Lake of the Woods,
its golden orange crescent
dances on clear lake ripples,
high perched
sky reflection lapping
the moon kissed shoreline
― alone ―
The Sliver of the Moon,
skinny lithe
unripened youth
arching
as unsated
summer love ―
sage memories
waxing and waning,
whiffs of honeyed Jasmine
writhing witherings,
coalescent
time drifts onward ―
unstoppable changes
never turning around
looking back
to see
their fading reflection
recurring ―
august rivers 2017
*note to self:
September 15, 16 east wind
Breathing Waft of lingering Mountain Sage
another Autumn soon comes*
... and I'm getting older too
Oct 1, 2017
Oct 1, 2017 at 12:33 PM UTC
Do what you have to do
For the good of the pack
Because the pack is life
Do what you have to do
For the good of yourself
Because the pack is only a pack
Of the pups that make it up
Do what you have to do
To preserve the self
That which not only nourishes
Deconstructs
Feb 28, 2017
Feb 28, 2017 at 2:21 AM UTC