Somewhere in Canyon DeShay

Somewhere in Canyon DeShay,
where water trickles softly
from canyon rock to sand and pebble,
Coyote, that Ol' Coyote,
dreams of Maria, the sorceress,
the dark-eyed desert child,
skin soft as water,
red-brown as desert sandstone,
as the canyon walls themselves.

Ol' Coyote dreamed. . . .

In the world of dreams,
of quantum time, of
Coyote consciousness,
he felt her breath against the hard stick
that is his constant companion,
even as on some level he heard
water drop from canyon walls,
or, even as now, he felt the
freshness of cool breeze against
waves of dry, desert heat,
washing, washing, over
Coyote skin, bone, hair. . . .

Somewhere in Canyon DeShay,
Ol' Coyote dreamed. . . dreamed of Maria,
the sorceress, the dark-eyed desert child,
mysterious and fresh as a desert flower.

LaurieC

Walking West, Searching for That Which Does Not Cast Shadows

Now, Coyote, that Ol' Coyote, walked west
through high desert country.

He walked with a special gait. He did not
leave footprints.

Coyote was looking for something that wasn't
obvious.

He was looking for that which does not cast
shadows.

Ol' Coyote moved gracefully.

There was a drop of perspiration on Coyote's
forehead.

Two Ravens watched the landscape from a
high desert butte.

Rattlesnake slept.

In the distance, near the San Francisco peaks,
it thundered with lightning and rain -- heavy
rain -- soon, Coyote feels the landscape
tremble as flash floods make their way to the
desert floor.

A solitary Eagle soared over Flagstaff.

Two old hippies watched that Eagle from
a street corner near Arizona State
University.



Now, Coyote, that Ol' Coyote, walked west
through high desert country.

He was looking for that which does not
cast shadows.

I leave it to your imagination. . . .

Rattlesnake stirs.

The Ravens fly to the San Francisco peaks.

The two old hippies smoke dope near Arizona
State University.

Many rivers of water flow onto the desert
floor.



Ol' Coyote walked west through high desert
country.

All the best,
LaurieC

Ol' Coyote and the Ancient Lava Rock, Part 2

Now, that Chevy, that 1959 Chevy Apache half-ton,
came roaring into Ixtlan with the Drunken Demon at
the wheel. Ol' Coyote sat on the passenger side with
his arm out the window, so he could feel the desert air.
The ancient Lava Rock sat motionless in the rear of
the Chevy half-ton.

It took the Drunken Demon exactly three seconds to
seat the Lava Rock at a table to the far end of the
outdoor cafe.

Coyote marvelled. . . .

The Demon grinned, mischievously.

The Lava Rock nudged forward, in approval.

Ol' Coyote ordered seven cups of coffee. He poured
five of them over the ancient Lava Rock and asked
for refills.

The Drunken Demon marvelled. . . .

Ol' Coyote grinned, mischievously.

The Lava Rock nudged slightly forward, pleased to
be a rock.

And, then, in one micro-second, in that small space of
time between seconds, the Lava Rock transported
them back in time, to 6,221, B.C. It transported them
to a place near the present-day Hopi Mesas, where they
saw an old village, a very old village, and a young
volcano that suddenly exploded, throwing its firey ash
and lava into the sky.

They marvelled. . . .

They saw the residents of this ancient village, scatter
and run to save their lives, carrying a few valuables
with them.

And then. . . then, they saw the lava and dust cover that
village, hiding it even from the sight of present-day
archaeologists.

Ask the Hopi. . . ask the old ones, who know such
things, and they will tell you the same story.



But, that's not all. . . .



As the micro-second passed, as it slipped away, that
Coyote, that Ol' Coyote, found himself in the desert
with that ancient Lava Rock. The rock was in the same
position, and in the exact spot, as when they first met.

Coyote marvelled at the Lava Rock, and the ten cups
of coffee it had absorbed.

The Lava Rock fell asleep.

In the distance, Coyote saw the dust, and out of that
dust came the 1959 Chevy Apache half-ton. It stopped
fifty yards in front of Coyote. The door opened. Then,
he noticed the long, dark hair, and how it moved to the
rhythm of the southwest breeze.

She beckoned him to join her -- to drive deep into
desert country.

Maria's deep, dark eyes, reflected light from the desert
sky.

Her flesh resembled the colour of lava rock. It balanced
with the land itself.

For a moment, Ol Coyote placed his hand on the warm
surface of the Lava Rock. He could feel life in a gentle
sleep.

He left that place.



Now, Coyote, that Ol' Coyote, sped across the desert
in a 1959 Chevy Apache half-ton, with Maria at the wheel.
He held his arm out the window, so he could feel the
desert air.

Maria grinned, mischievously. . . .


Good medicine always!
LaurieC ;)

Ol' Coyote and the Ancient Lava Rock

Now, Coyote, that Ol' Man Coyote, walked down a
hill, crossed the road leading to Ixtlan, and continued
on past a giant Agave plant. As he walked along,
he saw a small area of dust near the horizon.

Ol' Coyote sat on a large piece of Ancient Lava Rock,
that was watching the dust.

"I'll watch the dust with you," Coyote said, tapping
the rock with his left index finger. As they watched
the dust, the Lava Rock felt compelled to move, ever
so slightly.

"Yeah," I know, Coyote replied. The rock nudged
forward, again.

"That's my guess, too," Coyote whispered. He
stirred, stood on the rock, and peered into the dust.
"See, it's larger now -- seems to be coming straight
at us."

The Lava Rock nudged slightly to the left.

"Don't mind if I do," Coyote replied, lifting a side of
the rock to extract a flask of mescal. He downed a
triple shot of the stuff, quivered, shook, and sprang
to his feet, dancing about the Ancient Lava Rock,
singing, "When Irish Eyes Are Smiling".

The Lava Rock nudged slightly to the right.

Coyote returned the mescal to its shallow cavern,
beneath the rock.

The Lava Rock smiled as rocks do from time to time.
"Wake me when next you visit," it said, falling
asleep.

"Wait," Coyote replied, "would you like to travel to
Ixtlan for coffee?"

"Well . . . I haven't had coffee in . . . in . . . well,
I remember drinking something five thousand years
ago. Do you suppose it was coffee?"

Ol' Coyote thought for a moment . . .

"It was probably a Hopi or Anasazi brew, or, a gift
from the Mayans."

"Do they serve coffee to Lava Rocks at the market
in Ixtlan?"

Ol' Coyote thought for a second moment . . .

"I expect so. They served coffee to Rattlesnake
when we visited the market in 2001."

"That's very special. Will you carry me to Ixtlan,
Coyote? I move slowly. "

"We'll hitch a ride."

"Hitch a ride?"

"Certainly. I'll stand on you and stick out my thumb,
in this fashion."



Now, Coyote, that Ol' Coyote, stood on the Lava Rock
in a classic hitchhiking pose -- you can just imagine
what that was like. You see, the ol' fella had seen
a 1959 Chevy Apache half-ton come barrelling out of
the dust cloud. The Chevy came straight for them,
until it veered off to Coyote's right, stopping near
the Lava Rock.

The Lava Rock nudged itself forward -- to Coyote
vision, it moved two centimetres.

"Who the hell are you?" Coyote asked the little red
man, behind the wheel.

"I'm the Drunken Demon."

"Oh, how interesting." Coyote tapped the Lava Rock
with his right foot. The Rock smiled.




Now, that little red man, that Drunken Demon, smiled
back, while wiping his brow, saying, "Geez, it's hot
as hell, here!"

"We're on our way to Ixtlan for a cup of coffee.
That's why I flagged you down," Coyote said.

"Well, Maria sensed you were out here in the desert.
That's why she loaned me her truck. Besides, I'm also
looking for a garden of blue corn. Have you seen the
blue corn? Did you say, 'we'? I don't see anyone
else?"

Ol' Coyote thought for a third moment . . .

"You should go to the high desert country for the blue
corn." Then, he continued, "Lava Rock and I are having
coffee together."

The Lava Rock nudged backwards by two centimetres.

"What did it say?" The Demon asked.

"It told us to get our asses in gear, and place it
on the truck box."

"How're we gonna place such a large rock on the
truck box?" The Demon questioned.

"Well, you're a Demon -- that should be a simple
task for you," Coyote said.

"Yeah, I'd like to help, but I'm useless when I'm
sober," the Demon said, sobbing.

Ol' Coyote winked,
Ol, Coyote blinked,
Ol' Coyote grabbed the mescal
from the kitchen sink.

(Sorry. I'm not serious. I only wrote that because
it rhymes, somewhat. Let's try that again.)

Ol' Coyote winked. Ol' Coyote blinked. Ol' Coyote
lifted one side of the Lava Rock to retrieve the
mescal. He handed it to the Drunken Demon.

The Demon smiled. "Geez, I haven't had mescal
since yesterday!"

He emptied the flask, danced an Irish jig, stood
on his head, and threw the Lava Rock on the truck
box.

"Careful, I'm an Ancient Lava Rock." It said.



Now, that 1959 Chevy Apache half-ton, Maria's
Chevy Apache half-ton, made a sharp turn to the
south and headed off in the general direction of
Ixtlan. Soon, it was a small area of dust near the
horizon.

To be continued . . . .

LaurieC