So here we are.
You there and my words here. I’m a storyteller, wilderness rites of passage guide, poet and craftsman here in the South-Westest of Wales.
Coyopa isn’t my real name. Tom Hirons will do.
Coyopa is a Quiche Maya word. It means roughly ‘lightning in the blood’ or ‘the dew of heaven.’ You could call it duende, perhaps or kundalini. I feel it as the ‘aah’, the ka-ching, ka-zam of recognition, of aliveness; the thrum of the music and the power of the dance. It is the rush of energy in the body when something touches your soul. Coyopa is what separates the magical from the mundane. I began to use the word a long time ago and it stuck. If anyone wants it back, please let me know.
This is where you can find some of my poetry, prose and ramblings. Just to explain, here’s mostly what’s where:
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Poetry
A selection of things from the last few years – some have been spoken out on occassion, others are seeing the light of day here for the first time. They are all works in progress, but sometimes the progress takes so long that the change cannot be noticed by the human eye. |
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The Falcon’s Child
This is the novel I started writing in 1995. Finished in early 2009, still looking for a publisher. There are going to be a few sections here as tasters – very different from Jack Swift, it’s the story of Digger Gunn, who splits his soul in two, and how he tries to put the pieces back together. |
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Jack Swift
I used to tell these rough-hewn, quickly-written stories at Kin, the open-mic night in Edinburgh. Since 2001(?), Jack has been going on adventures with gurus, shamans, astral bears, angels, Baba Yaga, aliens and entities of dubious origin but he is, miraculously, none the wiser. In 2004, some of the Jack Swift tales turned into a book, Jack Swift and the Burundanga Blues. If you’d like to read it, please forward the costs of self-publishing it and I’ll be happy to send you a copy. Or send me an email and I’ll send you a PDF. More collections are planned. The next is provisionally titled Big Mama Bad-Ass and the Boogaloo Road. Any resemblances between Jack and persons living or dead is purely synchronistic trickery. |
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Miscellaneous Oddments
Everything else that isn’t poetry, Jack, or The Falcon’s Child. |
That’s all you need to know, my friend. If you disagree, come be a fan of my work at facebook or follow me on Twitter or even roll with me on Tumblr, but better still, leave comments – they make a difference, believe it or not.
To your space and time from mine, enjoy…
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