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poetry: ink and fur

when my poem coyote hunts
it makes no sound.
hunger guides it—

a vibration like gnawing, like remembering,
like stalking white rabbits through thick pages.

once i dreamed it howled,
loud enough to rearrange my ribcage
into a den.

you were there, hunting too,
a thread tied between us
like a leash, or maybe
an umbilical cord.

sunlight pressed into our skin,
warming our fur until we rolled over,
leaving nothing but words
cooling in the dirt.

*19/100: For the next 100 days, I’ll be writing and posting a poem every day.
**All photos are mine, taken with an Olympus E-M1 MarkII and edited with Lightroom Classic.

18 thoughts on “poetry: ink and fur”

  3. What a hauntingly beautiful poem. 🤍

    I was immediately drawn into its quiet intensity. The opening line—”when my poem coyote hunts, it makes no sound”—is striking. It suggests that the deepest creative impulses often move in silence, guided not by noise but by instinct and necessity.

    Your imagery is extraordinary. “Hunger guides it” and “stalking white rabbits through thick pages” beautifully capture the restless pursuit of inspiration. It feels as though the poem itself becomes a living creature, searching for meaning through memory, imagination, and language.

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    • You are so kind! Thank you. I do think this might be one of my favorite poems I’ve written in this series so far, and it was incredible to see that coyote running along the road. You just never know how inspiration will hit and what will happen when you show up.

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