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mindful coyote
3.1K Watchers724.9K Page Views665 Deviations
Six years ago, I stood at the coast, sand settled between my toes more strongly than I was to the earth around me, wondering when things would get better— better, like bathing daily, buying groceries instead of not eating, sleeping for more than two hours at a time and waking up better, like pool swimming, skimming the surface with a hand to save a beetle that landed and wondered if things would get better, like toes settled in sand at the beach, the Pacific reaching onward, outward, endless— and I wonder now how many times things got better while I wasn't looking
at night when the sea rushes in to meet the land I climb into the bathtub and make an island of myself
Desk Birds
When the beams finally gave way and the attic collapsed into the cloud of smoke that had threatened to billow through the roof, his eyes blazed the same orange-red that peeked through the smoke. He stared at it from the cover of a bush across the field behind the house, unmoving as it collapsed in on itself, bit by bit, board by board. Even as the last embers caught on the evening breeze before the fire ran out of things to burn, he remained, unmoving. When the last haze of light crept away over the horizon, he ran, eyes held shut until he cleared the first few trees that marked the edge of the forest. As he passed more trees—from memory, from practice—he slowly let his eyes creep open, the blazing orange-red illuminating the floor of dark forest in front of him as he ran. His guardians had taught him this. They’d practiced it over and over again, in case the day ever came. He was to run and not look back, to travel by darkness until he reached the bunker at the base of the far
It was far from the first time a dreamhopper tried to escape, and Dr. Markus Albrecht knew it would be far from the last. Hell, Reik had done it at least four times since discovering he could, and once his time in solitary was up, there was no doubt he’d do it again. The problem wasn’t that the dreamhoppers could bounce between dreams and potentially escape; every leap from one dream to the next left a trail of sorts, lingering magic that would lead to the next dream, and so on. No, the problem was more complex, and was one he should’ve expected that Belcott had figured out already. Once a dreaming person was pulled from their dream back into the waking world, their dreamscape would exist only in their subconscious, and it became much more difficult to find any trail to follow in the first place. “Sir, Reik has been locked down in simulated dream space. They recommend giving him about 6 hours to make sure his consciousness is still all there before speaking with him.” Markus sighed,
A Simple Task
It was supposed to be a simple task. Deliver the pouch to the old lady who lived in the house up the hill, get paid, then be on her merry way. As soon as she arrived and saw that the front door of the dilapidated manor was wide open, hanging on one barely attached hinge, she took her phone out of her pocket and called him back. When it went to the man’s answering machine, she said in no uncertain terms that the pay rate would be double the original quote. Once sure the message had been left, she stepped inside the house, braced for something far less than simple. Upon seeing the remains of the old lady on the dining room table, carved out in a way that could only be described as grotesque, she called him back again, this time demanding triple the original quote. He still didn’t answer, so as she climbed the stairs to the second floor landing, she sent him a text as well. After she killed the first hired gun on the second floor, she called him once more, this time stating that she
the Kamogawa flows from mountain to ocean— ritual routine like the sun rising and professing my love to you
It had taken him a year to traverse the Desolate Continent, his rucksack getting smaller and smaller as his supplies ran out. He might have been able to get to his destination sooner with help, but he knew he had to make this journey alone. A clear map, a course plotted on paper, anything more concrete than the fleeting memories of the stories he'd been told as a child would have helped. But he had to make do. The world was at an impasse. No one was happy, but no one had an edge, either. His goal was to turn the tide in favor of his people. Of his history. Of the very power they once possessed. When he finally crossed the tundra and could see the skeletal remains of the giant—of the mythical force he'd spent his childhood dreaming of—even his shock that the being had been real couldn't overtake the awe of discovering an entire body. Though he was tired from his travels and exhaustion threatened to kick in, he was calculated. This one was stabbed clean through, both weapons present
between two buildings
between two buildings on Hollywood Boulevard there is an abandoned plot of land where another once stood, and it is the only clear view of the Hollywood sign from the street. the most sought after view in Los Angeles caught, perfectly, in failure
Clandestine Canyon
Unravel the Dusk
Alchemic Relic
Senja 10
Salto Sunrise
Horseshoe Bend
Les Montagnes Hallucinees
Hello Now
Hello. I don't know how to greet you I only know that I have always thought of you as something I could hold in my hands unnaturally as a fistful of minnows before they die puncture their own bones against me and secrete the abalone glaze of their eyes into a film on the dock Until now I have since kept you as a flighted likeness of my mind knowing too the cold of a multiplied sunset ending in frost and space between rivers the fragrance of a sweetly decomposing salmonberry, telling time for reddening chinook to end sweeping like a wind in the parts between birches or of it's stain that I would palm and carry thinking also
The Door of Our Cottage in the Western Night
They began on the beach, and a fire was raging upon the waters.  A fire on one side of the world and one around the other.  The earth had been unbruised, like an apple on a string, and then two stones had struck within a month, and everything had burned, slagged by deep space arrows. The wind was terrible.  Everywhere was a howl with no direction. * There were a few lichen-like communities in damp places, where the sky had steamed by but seared little, lifted ravines and streams from the land, unwrinkled it, dragon braille revealed only in fire.  There were a few who had been underground, and a few in the inland seas and lakes, a few in the
today, i deposited the contents of my stomach into an open, wanting porcelain mouth. i, a liquid solid am readily taken down its esophagus, into its belly where i decompose. my throat is a raw flesh-tube i use to sing off key and vomit. i have a fever. my temples are solar panels and my skull aluminum foil, trapping the heat inside. it's like i have cysts between my bones, calcium build-ups in my veins. i lost my legs along the way down into the abyss. but i don't mind. their muscles ached so terribly i'd often thought of self-amputating. still, i am left with 206 bones, and they all creak, and clamor, a
I hear the cosmos collapsing against my soul. Black space exploding, my imperfect face imploding into a million skinless Stars, screaming into the palpable Silence that has been touched less often than even I have, into the abyss and the blackness that beckoned me forward I stared, shapes realigned the perimeters of my reality into a new glaze. I felt the gravity slip away from under my feet. Do you remember the time you poured liquor into my virgin glass and made cocktails from the universes spinning under my skin? I said "cherish me, please, this gift that was mine" you said "why" and laughed, you didn't see the tears I cried, m
Splinter helix
EMBRYO a derelict building shifts its swollen form wire cage elevators moving carefully as it swallows nestled in a womb of fragile concrete fibres the child of paint and pastel colours stirs searching blindly for that energetic outside world it stretches its delicate arms like an earthquake SAPLING Tell me where you come from, what you remember of the black ground. Talk in riddles only your kind understands, talk in flowers, talk in thorny branches. You crack the foundations in starlike patterns, and you stretch the heart of you for the concrete above, longing to carry the sky as a bed for the Sun. GENERATION the twisting fles
Riding Bikes
Going off medication is like riding a bike. The doctor holds tight to my handlebars and lowers my dosage. The training wheels are off, and oh hey, look at me go! It's like flying but not, and I'm doing so well but then there's a horrible accident and I'm somehow upside down at the bottom of the sea with both wheels still spinning. "Help," I say, and my doctor pats my head, puts a band-aid on my knee, and writes a note on my chart. I've balanced by myself for months at a time, but I always end up hitting a fucking tree or falling off a cliff or something equally catastrophic because I am a catastrophic person. Except that is an exaggeration
The Beckett Colcannon
CIAN, bowler hat, medium gray trench coat, old-fashioned sunglasses, a cane. BEAG, bowler hat, light grey trench coat. SET: Front center, a rectangular table, around 8 feet long. To its right, as seen by the audience, an oven/stove. On the stove, a pot with steam coming from it, and on the floor to its right, a small garbage bin. To the table's left, a simple armless chair, facing the audience. On the table, one pound of ham, in one piece. The set is lit in medium light, and the remainder of the stage is left in darkness. Curtains rise. CIAN sits at the chair. He stares directly forward. Five seconds. CIAN: Ready, yes, they must be ready.
Ms. Fox
rummaging through the night; I find her buried in a handsome coat. the darkness softens her trash-strewn make up to lay bags under her eyes. I have always thought to chase a beauty like that; blow my hunting-horn like kisses as I saddle up. I would wear her around my arm and discuss the big-game and the beasts at bay with boys that brandish scorecards into the hundreds. but, she hid from the canines lapping her neck with a head buried in all fours. I skinned her like a poacher bearing my ivory smile for her to unfurl flushed and screaming like a new born baby. caught in my hooves the wrong way.
Into a Congo
Shocks rippled south realmed a loss and screened a track stacks strung low and around again She wanted the feeling of mica between her teeth like lashes on a chiseled tree totaled through and ruffled down up and around again Court and run south and sandalwood wrecked a home, she sat still her knees knit together unraveled over and into raw skin, over and into she bloomed her hair into a Congo It peeled like rose petals beneath her feet a sheet strung high and low and around again She said tell me why, but her fingers curled around your head, around your neck, slowly and then her shoulders                        loosened
We swam through the sky and when we landed we felt higher than when we almost reached the Sun. You kissed my neck and your lips still burned and the fire in my hair went out and you sighed. I hate this part of the song where I can't hear you anymore. When you woke me up I remembered why I used to love you; why the ash on your tongue used to taste so sweet.
Artist // Literature
  • Deviant 10 years
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My Bio
Hey all, we're currently experiencing some issues with thumbnail and image loading. Our team's working on it at the moment and will hopefully have it fixed up soon!
Don't Start Now
Hey all, hope you're all doing well! How many of you are doing NaNoWriMo this year? I hadn't planned to do it initially, but with some coercing from @Exillior, I ended up committing to trying the first day and seeing how I was feeling. So far, I'm on schedule, I finished yesterday about 450 words ahead and I am looking forward to writing tonight. My goal is to try and get at least a full day ahead, because the previous times I succeeded, I ended up needing that buffer to account for various life things, but so far I've written more than 1,666 each day, so I think as long as I keep to the pace I'm at right now, it's doable. For those of you who are taking part, what are you writing about? And for those of you who aren't taking part, are you doing any art projects (or have you recently done, in the case of those of you who did Inktober!)? I'd love to hear about your art ideas! :la: Recent Favourites Around the Community
Halloween Sketchmatch time! Hop in and take part! https://chat.deviantart.com/chat/communityrelations

Deviousness Award

A deviant for nine years, ikazon is a monumentally influential member of DeviantArt. A champion of DeviantArt’s literature community, he’s contributed his own writing and journal skins to the community since he first joined DeviantArt. In 2011, ikazon became a Community Volunteer, shining a light on undiscovered pieces in both the DeviantArt related and literature galleries. His dedication to the community quickly made him a beloved figure on DeviantArt. Soon after, in 2012, he was hired as a full-time staff member, where he ran multiple community projects, such as the 2014 and 2015 Valentine’s Day Exchange!

However, ikazon’s contributions to the community extended past his time as a community volunteer and a staff member. From contributing journal skins to the CalendarProject to leaving encouraging comments for his fellow community members, ikazon’s supporting presence has been felt all across DeviantArt.

We’re proud to name ikazon as the Deviousness Award recipient for March 2016!
Awarded Mar 2016

This is my box to test things.



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Erdbeersternchen's avatar
Erdbeersternchen Photographer
Thank you so much for your support and the watch! Hug  I hope you will have enough cookies for the rest of the week!
If not, here is one: Teddy 

Ups - the bear must have eaten all my cookies D:
ikazon's avatar
ikazon Writer

That's cute :giggle: And no worries at all, it's my pleasure! Thank you for sharing your work with us! :hug:

bkiani's avatar

Thanks for the fave! :bow:

ikazon's avatar
ikazon Writer

No worries! :la:

ninebark's avatar
ninebarkHobbyist Digital Artist
ikazon's avatar
ikazon Writer

:hug: :heart:

How have you been?

ninebark's avatar
ninebarkHobbyist Digital Artist
Halfassedly hibernating. Waking up a bit now that it's almost time for Critmas again. :lol: 

How have YOU been?