Coyote crossed cliff's edge,
didn't drop before pause to diagnose
as though he must scent gravity
to be bound by it: the in-itself/for-itself
falling: later, coyote-shaped crater in painted mud.
Coyote would rise again to replicate his misadventures:
blown up, face smashed against
the blunt-pawed portrait of a tunnel.
How foolish one acts when starving,
helpless beside this blistering highway
somewhere between birth & Albuquerque

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