I'm Coyote Too, the Trickster. My intentions are good, but I don't always leave well enough alone. Watch your fingers, you may get burned.
Note: This site contains mature topics and content which may not be appropriate for everyone. Certainly I don't deal with them very well.
I tweeted this in the morning, when I was feeling a little drained and overwhelmed, and more than a little like I had no solid place to stand.
Some work their way through forests dark, tree to tree over tangled roots.
Others rest in gladed peace, drawing strength from midday sun.
I stand in brambles and dusky shadow, watching ghostly figures pass.
Behind is sun-dappled safety, but I fear the fading path.
If I reach out my hand, will I drown in the dark?
I tweeted this short piece as I was heading back north from a roadtrip that had taken me from Massachusetts to Florida and New Orleans, with a few stops in-between. The short form (restricted to 140 characters) resulted in something a little more melodramatic that I felt, but it captured some of what I saw. It's a hard time for a lot of people, both financially and emotionally. It was a wonderful trip, and I met (and almost met) many people I've wanted to see, but still it's had a touch of sadness.
I dreamt of walks; wooded streams, thoughtful words.
I sought love; gentle agape, passionate eros.
I found sadness; the fear of dying alone.
This was my July 22nd entry into @SensualStories #Journaling Game. You can see the original post on her web site. People on Twitter submit phrases, which she posts. Then anyone who feels inclined can write a short piece using one of the phrases. The stories are posted on her website for comment. Most, but not all, the stories are somewhat erotic, but it's a great writing exercise, especially if you're trying to get back into the flow of writing stories. The phrase was one I had submitted myself, “Where the wild things are is where I am most at home.”—Kim Antieau, in de Lint’s “Memory and Dream”.
Where the wild things are is where I am most at home. Amid the hills, where life is green and growing, and the morning mists withdraw to expose valleys far below. I don’t belong in the shadows of cold buildings, where green is a whisper in a sidewalk, and pigeons peck in listless preparation for rebirth as office workers at their keyboards. But not all that is wild wears fur or feathers. I heard the cry of her heart from afar, felt the wild soul that fluttered within. She would not come to me, and so I was drawn here, to these dark domesticated canyons. Like a wild stallion, I had scented the lure of the saddled mare. I knew the risk to my heart, but I could not stay away.
This piece took an interesting twist. Later in the summer I was at a music camp and wanted to write a song. This seemed like an interesting place to start. You can listen to me playing the final result here. I have the lyrics and chords written up on my computer, but I need to update them with a few last minute changes. I'll post them online when I do.
This was my July 10th entry into @SensualStories #Journaling Game. You can see the original post on her web site. People on Twitter submit phrases, which she posts. Then anyone who feels inclined can write a short piece using one of the phrases. The stories are posted on her website for comment. Most, but not all, the stories are somewhat erotic, but it's a great writing exercise, especially if you're trying to get back into the flow of writing stories. The phrase was, "theres a shadow just behind me, shrouding every step I take", from "Sober" by Tool, submitted by @purplehayz.
The rain fell softly on the leaves above me. Nature’s odd hold on time still left a few minutes respite before they reached the forest floor. Later, when the clouds had moved on, an echo of the rain would continue to fall in the shadow of the great trees. It was late afternoon, but here in the forest it was twilight already. The edges of my world were indistinct and ghostly. The daylight birds had gone quiet with the rain and the dusk. The nighttime peepers were still silent. I paused for a moment, but nothing interrupted the quiet drops on the canopy above. I moved forward once more, but I could feel it as much as see it. There was a shadow just behind me, shrouding every step I took.
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