Coyote Star--Leviticus

   
   "Coyote Star--Leviticus"
   
   Goofy changed his name for the day, and maybe forever--his true name.  The Canis latrans knew She had to be of a Levite, and Him from the line of Judah.  Purity mixed with power.  The first, though not first Messianic-styled child born of the Father, as there was Joseph and David; plus, Solomon, as a son of David; however, Jesus encompassed the Holy Spirit Itself, charged and kinda/sorta electric, as white as snow, and without the riddle of a harlot, yet loving though never giving guilt, as do the weak and wicked, for Jesus is the Light and Salt, as are His family.
   The coyote still adored the frequent frequency of rainbow colors, knowing Bifrost is beauty, and if they are heroes of God, hunting world serpents; next, they are not against Jesus.  It is only the predators, shaping the anxious into fragile images, when if only the abused used their instincts, listening only to Walt Whitman's advice, yet better if united with a Hebrew sense of origin--Christians get all their best stuff from the Jews, let it be forever known, and given props to Abraham and his holy seed.
   And while the coyote pondered this, he did not chase the hare in order to impress Presley, a minor king; moreover, he simply got in cool tune with the basics and simplicity, knowing instinct outshines legalistic advice, when there are only Ten Laws, and the Beauty of Beatitudes--nothing more in certain moments, allowing the follower to retain his geography; plus, have eternal life--not from death to life, yet from life to life, living in the Light, and transfiguring without hesitation.
   The coyote pounced on a mole, only for survival, and the need of protein prayed for.  As that one movie about mountains cold mentioned:  "Everything has a purpose--even shit."  But how better to slaughter an allegorical goat, and be a sheepdog for the shepherd.  The coyote loved himself, as he was second unto the Great Spirit.  God Bless Teddy Roosevelt.  

Woman Caught In Adultery

Coyote Star--Genesis

   
   "Coyote Star--Genesis"
   
   Underneath the gleaming glisten and kinda/sorta glow of the celestial cool, that Big Neon Glitter the CULT gave ode to in the 1980's, inspiring young men to be both spiritual and religious, counterpoising both aspects with crystal compassion, in a sense of radiating the heavenly hues of a rainbow promised, and even a bridge to heaven that is circular offers God's great promise, and here, on Terra's Turf, four paws and a fanged friendly, never seen, only heard with a yip and a yap under a crescent's neon-cheese, was Goofy, the Canis latrans; specifically, a true coyote, not merged with dog, but aren't we all from the same spoil, or chance, to never blame God, yet know:  Even dogs are hunted for no good reason, yet as Goofy's eternal pack was breeding with both wolf and domesticated dog, he was being ushered into a safer reality, as if blessed, and why not--for the coyote is second unto the Great Spirit, and even laughs at himself, like might a bearded lady, for circus people have a sense of humor, yet if true to sublimity, only haunt with love's luscious lips, kissing smoothly, and for divine purpose, if only to inspire love's innocent touch, always treating a lady like a lady, and knowing that the Queen is the most powerful fixture on the Chess Board, as if invented for truth, taking royal risks with mercurial moves in any direction, and as Goofy was the Great Coyote--he knew how to play Chess, if only for love of the game, and kicks, like the potent President Trump gives to the ribs of rascals; moreover, Goofy was a sweet coyote, and he had many fierce friends that lived in his bodacious burbs, it great, but too many damn power lines.  

Red Fox Suburbia--TI

   
   "Red Fox Suburbia--TI"
   
   She called it suburbia, though not a commando like Hulk Hogan, where his adversaries threatened a law suit--those class action crooks, all from a Guild of Thieves; specifically, the fried chicken was not healthy for Nevada; still, she ate fish on Fridays, and the Pope's brother was a fisherman, so goes the smarty-pants back onto the legs of her Eastern Orthodox relatives, mentioning that Adamkind should not be in space, especially Deep Space Nine, where Gold-Pressed Latinum is the order of the day; anyway, at the C-Store, way out in Faulkner's alcoholic Mandela Effect, Nevada was eating what fueled the Vietnamese during the War without them inheriting diabetes--white rice.  A man named Stubby sat down next to her in the booth, a cricket crawling amid the igniting conversation.

STUBBY
They want you baby--so do I.  Better buy some painter's tape and many magic mirrors.

NEVADA
What, the Age of Information?  You believe it?  Oh yeah, truth trumps fiction.

STUBBY
Want some Duck a L'Orange?  It's toasted.  Like those Luckies your Grandma smokes, before the white man put a piece of cotton on the tip.

NEVADA
I can yell harassment.  Plenty of girls have done it, without any evidence, them having sought it in the first place, and it seems to stick.

STUBBY
Just don't make waves.

NEVADA
Why?  You guys will kill me anyway.  Thanks to the Mirror of Justice, maybe the death you sow in my direction--you'll reap.

STUBBY
Not very Christian.

NEVADA
Don't give me crap; Jesus was no wimp.  He told it like it was, and my purpose is to totally mimic Him.  What's better than a mere tradesman infused with the Holy Spirit Itself?  

Prayer to St. Joan of Arc

   
   "Prayer to St. Joan of Arc"
  
   Feast Day May 30th
Patroness of Service Women  

   Most extraordinary soldier, you insistently proclaim "Let God be served first!"  You began by winning many victories and received the plaudits of princes, but then you were given to the enemy and cruelly put to death.  Instill in us the desire to serve God first and perform our earthly tasks with that idea ever in our minds.
  
Au nom du Pere et du Fils et du Saint-Esprit.  Amen  

Red Fox Suburbia--Jacob wrestling an Angel

   
   "Red Fox Suburbia--Jacob wrestling an Angel"
  
   Nevada was beginning to enjoy the morning paralysis, knowing not every essence is on the nefarious spectrum, and that sometimes God extracts our attention, for God tests the just man, and that means woman too, in a manner of speaking.
   After a sloppy yawn, some spittle flickering, yet not enough to gross out a Levite, Nevada went to the window of her mild and modest habitat placed within a bucolic geography, as if Faulkner was still wearing Colonel Sanders' wardrobe, but drinking the heavy spirits, and didn't prefer it extra-crispy.
   Outside the window, entertaining with its handsome countenance delivered downwards to a bushy tail stood a Vulpes vulpes, the fox of all the foxes, looking at a mole, though none was there, as if sensing the frequency buried beneath the Earth--an Earth Tesla said he could crack with a certain frequency, but all he desired was to offer free energy, which of course made corporations a bit uneasy.
   Nevada knew, but wanted no part, only interested and curious concerning walks in the park, jellyfish, and the make-up of the essences contained within the Celestial Hierarchy, as hinted at by Dionysius the Areopagite.  It was a modest way to pass time, and today she had to get another exotic fish for her tank, to kick the Fight Club of relaxation up a bit, and show her fractured father a bit of smooth contentment, merged with, of course, the high-pitched sounds of Valkyries recollected by sopranos still in league with Wagner.    
   And boy, are goldfish resilient.  She won one at a fair when she was approaching adolescence, and it lived all the way till her last juicy zit.  

Red Fox Suburbia--After the Wolf Moon

   
   "Red Fox Suburbia--After the Wolf Moon"
   
   Nevada picked up the 2018 Farmers' Almanac, noticing that the frostbite from the ignition of January was due to a Wolf Moon, them carnivorous canines hunting and stocking, forgetting the squirrel's nut-hiding talents, gorging instead with high protein meats and savory bone calcium, to better build a member of the gelled pack, in order to hunt; furthermore, the path-finders never take down prey larger than their worth, not into wasting energy, and showing threats as did King Solomon, with simple facial gestures, as if Clint Eastwood in a movie showcasing a friendly orangutan and a gleeful granny armed with a double-barrel shotgun--never a 12, but a 20 gauge for less kick and more potent accuracy.  
   Nevada soldiered through the day till @ Walgreens, where the spicy beef jerky promised bits of iron and cowboy juice for the wrangle.  It was all good, as long as nobody spun her spurs with uncouth scrutiny.