A Chapter by Coyote Poetry


Part one. The letters.



The letters

Dear Beth
I roamed your Facebook site. You are still so beautiful. I told you  I was okay. I don’t like to publish to the world. I’m tire, so damn tire.  My family is separating from me. This is the proper thing for kids to do. Your children must stand alone. Life isn’t so sweet. I work, pay bills and wife does the same. I learn love and need will change. I know people change and depart from your life. I need the sea. I need a lifetime in Monterey. I would not be missed. I still love to write poetry, story and read. My last place to know peace here in Michigan. Life is fair to the all of us. I know you have changed. Lived a complete life. If you have time for me. I would love to come to Monterey. Maybe we can drink the sweet wine promised and some coffee at the sea.
With all my love

Dear Johnnie
Please come to me in  Pacific Grove. I have been dreaming of you. I felt you struggling and I thought you were dead. My friend bought me a computer and she shown me your poetry. Johnnie, life is worthwhile. I dreamed of us. Your lips upon your  my lips, your hands upon my heart. I have lived a good life and I own a home in Pacific Grove. You can see the sea from my bedroom window.  I have read all your poetry and story. The Hemingway death is not a good one.You can’t save yourself, but you can save others with your words and thoughts. The dark poet had became kinder. I feel your fear and regret in your words. My dreams of you seeking death make my dreams become real and I awake with tears. Please Johnnie, come to Monterey. Sometime you begin new life to learn new hope. I love you still. You were  kind and gentle to me and we can find the place again. My address is on the letter and I have given you my phone number on Facebook. With love and concern.


Monterey-part two

A Chapter by Coyote Poetry

                                    Monterey – Love glances and stolen kisses

The old man found his final place to rest. He returned to Monterey. The sea was his last dream. January isn’t the perfect time for the sea. The Winter sea is angry and cold. He loved the Winter Pacific ocean. He liked her because she was pissed-off sea. She danced a wild and untamed dance.

The man like the old city on the bay. Had peaceful water and gentle people. He came to read/write poetry and wait for death. He loved the energy of the city. Musicians, artist and writers gathered nightly. The singer sang their song, the artist brought to life empty canvas and the poet/writers wrote and spoke.

Once he was famous here in Monterey.  They call him the Poet. Always roaming the free sea and writing near the beach. He roamed with the surfers, musicians, artist and writers. He came back for a final goodbye to a dear friend. Beth was a writer, seller of necklace and natural herbs. He remembered her 25 years ago. Sitting at his feet and listening to his poetry. She called him the dark Poet. The poet of the song, of fatal and destitute ending. He loved her as she gave him glances of love when he spoke of war, love and peace. Their silence agreement was enough for the gift of love. They were lovers without greed of testing and killing the body. They held embrace and fell together as one. They slept connected and content. She taught him gentle caress, not desperate need.

Her long and warm kisses and the warmth of her body made him know peace. He would cupped her breast gently as the fell together into peaceful sleep. She never complained. She would whisper silence prayers to him when he slept. She felt his body fighting old wars and regret. She loved him so. On a full moon Winter night, she told him. I love you more than anyone. I love you more than myself.

He was in the Army and Beth was a California soul. She loved the sea and nothing to control or own her life. He told her. I’m a soldier. I’m told where to go and what must be done. I have ordered for Fort Hood, Texas. He eyes became filled with tears and she told him. Please stay with me Johnnie. The soldier life is a hard and lonely life. I’m here and you will be in Texas. Who will save me? Who will save you?

Beth found me on  a Poetry site. I have written a thousand poems for her. She wrote me. Dear Johnnie. I’m still in Monterey and I’m alone now. If you want to find me. Come to Monterey. We can find old dreams, maybe create new ones.

I saw a auburn hair beauty coming toward me. Dear Beth still wearing long Summer sun-dresses and her eyes shone like a clear stream. She ran to me. Kissed me once than twice. We fell to the sand, held long embrace and shared hours of warm and sweet kisses. We sat together by the Monterey bay. Two friends, lovers holding  silence till I told her.

I love you more than anyone. I love you more than myself.

John Castellenas/Coyote