Coyote celebrated in
fifth world coyotes
by t. zoEy benally,
Shiprock, Navajo Nation © 2006
they sniff bushes
lean on guardrail adhesive reflectors
to catch some evidence thread's
to lead them on their next adventure
"good morning" i
"ooh' good morning!" they return one by one
they call out "where
are you going?
let us follow you & see how far you travel!"
laugh and continue my journey
you must be careful with these coyotes
never rude, never too friendly
just help them find what they don't know
many think they should be killed
run down by swift
tawny gray blood smear on asphalt,
shot between jaundice
dried, rolled pine pitch lumps vacant
but they are
sent by those that understand universe curls
repeat and trace patterns
subatomic particles to solar system and beyond
they are those foretold of in emails
sent to be examples
teach the value of family and home
face covered by mud, hair filled with
thank you, holy ones, message received
Visit zoEy at
by Wally Swist © 2003
Two a.m., howling begins
on the edge of one of the farms left
this valley, near the wetland
a developer has mown.
Such pure sound
pierces the night,
this bloodletting beneath Orion,
choir of thin cries
that tremble like Shawmut and Massasoit
back to haunt us.
Then the baying of one hound
sets another hound
from the far rim of the opposite ridge.
Porch lights flicker
on the water of this delirious music,
and the wild pack in each of
rises into song.
This poem is in
the book, "The New Life,"
available from Small Press Distribution
Berkeley, CA / paperback / $12.00.
Wally Swist, Copyright 1998, 2001, 2003
by Robyn Hunt © 2006
While here the coyote
take turns playing
easter bunny, dog named
butterfly, white shrine
on a dusty foothill
Here coyote is an old tale
that many do not
to tell their children
any longer, cartoon
each woman, each
and a chair in the middle
of the road;
Robyn Hunt lives in Santa Fe
PARK COYOTE DEAD
by Kit Hedman © 2006
was spotted in Central Park.
Any reasonable person would celebrate,
assume the Mayor would proclaim
Coyotes are sacred in New York
In a city where rats
the size of house cats run in packs
why not have hundreds of coyotes
to keep their numbers in check?
Coyotes are much more attractive.
Maybe the city officials thought
coyote's feral good looks
would challenge fashionable Fifth Ave.
But I grew up in the suburbs
and I saw this phenomenon
just like the officials of New York,
ever deer appeared, boys chased them.
That's what park maintenance
in golf carts did, and park police with guns
and TV choppers
hovering at treetop, for days
they chased the brazen coyote.
had him surrounded once
according to the New York Times
carousel, but he escaped by leaping
illegally over their heads.
Coyote kept them searching with
their night vision goggles
radar until a ranger
shot a tranquilizer into the scavenger's rump.
The dangerous one year old was drugged,
his swift legs bound like a
his snout hooded, eight million
citizens breathed a sigh of
As a final humiliation
they pierced one ear
giving it a number, a criminal career.
man beside me
on a Guatemalan bus once,
who cried when soldiers took
his friend at a check point, I cry now.
Like coyote some of us
with little heed to boundary
and fear, arriving by chance,
like coyote, not realizing
we're already the enemy.
by Laurie James © 2006
midway in stream
as you turned
sensed the outcome
tantalizing slyness would
knew they would
sniff you out
into the undergrowth
upon their tails
Laurie James lives in Salida, Colorado
by Danny Rosen ©
I sleep with Coyote's little brother, Little Coyote.
together in the truck. Sometimes Little Coyote
takes the wheel,
trying to help out.
I grab forty winks.
Woke up in the ditch
Little Coyote licking my eyes.
Woke up in New York City
Little Coyote was gone.
The radio was on, some left wing
meshuganah was coming down hard against Man-Dog marriage.
Three nights I listen to a coyote
calling long distance
from across a dark field.
My own cry I
keep to myself,
cradled in a pillow of goose down.
I never answer,
wed talk all night, sharing
some loneliness without
a language to describe it.
David Feela © 2006
website at www.geocities.com/feelasophy
FOR MORE COYOTE
POETRY CLICK HERE