Juice Online Poetry & Art
                                                       Publishing since 1970		cover art for Juice online 2007 cd
2008
the home page of Juice poetry and art online About Juice online poetry and Art, editors, policies, histories, etc. a list and index of poets and poems in current issue of Juice online art and graphics index a list of artists and paintings how to submit work to Juice poetry and art online a list of poets and authors who have contributed to Juice Magazine links to previous isssues of Juice poetry essays and writings about poetry

Stephen Morse

Many of these poets have Books. Find them at Amazon Books: Just type in their names.
    In Case  you ever wondered about the avatar I'm using today...the coyote poetry one.  This BLAB  tells some of  the story.

  Some days I just plain get angry, been that way since I was 17 and told by a guy named Barney that my dad had left and probably wasn't coming back.  A combination of bad decisions, bankers that wanted to throw him in jail, and excessive pride.  At 17 I blamed the bankers. 
     That was the beginning of the coyote in me.  Independent, wary of authority figures.  That only got worse as time went by.  The house was burned by an arsonist who was probably the kid whose parents owned the neighboring ranch.  The ranch wasn't insured because the agent had been pocketing the money.  The detective investigating the fire tried to get it on with my mother.
     The minister of our church who was like a brother when dad was around pretty much abandoned us.  Certainly didn't help anything.  We moved into the local town, Creswell, a logging town where the family became a focal point for the local gossips.
      So I developed a healthy distrust of just about everyone including my own family, a father who abandoned us all, a mother who kept one sister, abandoned the other to a local family in the logging town, and pretty much left me fending for myself...I was lucky.  I had patrons who wanted me to marry one of their daughters, but stuck by me when I politely declined.  They respected my talent.
      So I learned that not all people were weak and untrustworthy.  I became like the coyote, I ran , hunted and sang in packs with other coyotes, artists, poets, musicians, mostly.  But unlike wolves, there was no real leader...it was all about survival and enjoying life.  A sense of humor, which often has a bite to it, is an essential of surviving.  It sorts out the weak and untrustworthy.  You become very observant as a Coyote. 
     That was how I began my journey as a coyote cowboy poet.   There is one other important ingredient to survival, a mate that knows what it means to love and survive in a world full of wolves, sheep, Crows and zombie humans with power.  I am a lucky person.  I found  the person I needed to be complete.  And we have a wonderful, coyote family.  Independent, caring.  We all bite a little, but they're love nips, so we just nip right back.