The writings of Hunter Coch



The Woman

The woman, she moves;

Dancing to oblivion

Into the lost nights.

The dance is enlightenment,

Unintentional gnosis.

The woman, she moves;

A ritual dance between

Darkness, light, and life,

Ritual and death, motion,

Inebriated gnosis.

The woman, she moves;

Primal movement, a dark trance,

Writhing ecstasy.

Movement into living death.

Dancing into the gnosis.

The woman, she moves; rapture.

The woman, she moves . . . Gnosis.



Life in the Alley

Within silent streets
And deserted dark allies,
Lies the empty hearts
Of the degenerate streets
Seeking consumption of life.

-Hunter Coch



Creative Chaos

Darkness in the heart
Of matter’s dancing dream-scape.
Infinity falls,
To the beat of disaster.

Creativity rages.


No Way

In search for the road,
Seeking a destination.
Lost in wilderness,
A state of desolation.
In the forest of be-ing.


Its Eyes Looked Beyond

Forest of twilight,

With trees thick, the path’s overgrown

To the hidden grove.


What light shines through the canopy leaves comes only in small rays that highlight the vibrant hues and make shine the tiny particles trapped within its beam. Small beasts scurry unseen in the dense foliage. Dead leaves crackle underfoot.


Vines crawl its stone face

Through lycan and moss of greens,

This ancient form stands.


The air is thick and heavy. Shadows move in unnatural ways and it feels like insects are following. The knowledge of time is gone. We walk the way disoriented, searching for the ancient rumor as the birds call from above.


The ancient idol

From beyond man’s memory

Waits for those who come.


What will we find? What lies at the end of our paths? What people would come to this hellish place to build in such a hostile environment? Do we seek a sacred grove of ancient wonders? What will we learn of this ancient people?


Into the distance,

It sees in shade and shadow,

It knows who’s coming.


The past is gone, the way is lost. We know neither direction nor distance. But we hear a call from afar, the distance song that sings to our dreams. We see a light in our mind’s eye. I fear, but we must move forward.


Light through broken leaves

Shines light on forgotten stone.

The way is open.


We stand up on a hilltop clear but for tall grass and a single stone idol, large and imposing. The sky is a light was fire; as the sun descends the stars flicker into existence. Filled with excitement, anticipation, and fear, he approached unwillingly.


Eyes of stone look deep,

From a time beyond knowledge

And civilized man.


My friends are gone. Hope is gone. We came in search of lost civilizations. We came to understand our own past. But this was not of human hands. I now know what lies within stone. I am gone.


Alone in the woods,

Stands an ancient stone idol,

Its eyes look beyond.




A heart of darkness
Is born from ten thousand tears.
The void eternal
Holds eternal compassion.

A heart white with light
Is born from ten thousand tears.
The light eternal
Scorching, turning all to ash.

Beware what is preconceived.

Visual Poetry: West

Part of the visual poetry and the Drifter series

Part of visual poetry and the Drifter series

Visual Poetry: Shadow on the Hill

Part of the visual poetry series

Part of the visual poetry series

The Way, A collection of 25 Haiku

The Way


A river moves through

Stone and clay, weaving a path;

Its tenderness cuts.


A tender flower,

Small, petite, living in stone.

The petals flutter.


Old flame marks the trail,

Stone formations block my path,

I continue on.


A nymphs’ paradise,

She dances on damp green grass,

A seductive grin.


Suns’ ray touches dew,

Shows the magic of fungus

Growing on dead tree.


She moves wickedly,

Between the shadows and light,

Touching her damp flesh.


Ach! A thread of web,

It tickles the face with fear,

But no spider comes.


Armadas of ants,

Cleaning the forest of death,

Thrice they block my path.


From valley to hill,

Shaded path to sunny sky,

The way moves forward.


High upon hilltop,

The heat grows, no shade to help,

Resting on dry dirt.


Handsome nymph returns,

Covered in matted orange dust,

Dancing wildly.



White and gray clouds shatter light

Calming beating heart.


Single flower sits,

Of peach and red apple hues,

A butterfly sips.


Returning below,

Valley of oaks and willows,

A rippling creek.


Sophia slithers,

Long and black with yellow stripes.

She crosses my path.


Young bluejay perches,

His eyes follow as I walk,

Harsh and high chirps sound.


Old oak of wisdom,

Standing tall on the journey,

Gnarled branches reach.


Rippling creek stops,

Still pool sits by sacred grove,

Oaks and willows thrive.


On a single stone,

She lies in a ray of light,

Dressed in natures way.


Bug sits, a fish feeds

Small birds call, leaf falls then floats,

Trees speak in the breeze.


Sitting on a stone

By a clear pool of water,

Seeing the magic.


Cool wind as dusk nears,

And the trees shiver with life,



At the point of dusk,

From water a nymph rises,

Kissing naked lips.


Lips pressed, desire.

Lips pulled into pond of glass,

Lips filled with rapture.


Into cool wet void,

Falling into dark decay,

To sleep forever.

All haiku are numbered for future convenience. Some or all of these may end up as visual poetry.

#NaNoWriMo, I Failed yet I still Win

Well I didn’t make it to 50,000 words my the end of November, so I failed at #NaNoWriMo this year. However it’s not a complete loss. The reasons for my failure were:

1. I got distracted by life. Seriously, who decided national novel-writing month would be November? Though that’s just me making excuses. I realize that #NaNoWriMo is a world event and should not be hindered by American holidays. I can still bitch though.

2. This is the biggie. My novel actually concluded itself at around 40,000 words. The natural progression of the words I had written led to an early ending.

Now, this does not mean I will abandon the novel. I believe a lot that was written has potential and the story entertains me. So I will continue to work at it and I’m glad to say progress is being made; currently I’m working on the second draft using yWriter5. I hope to have a finished product by the end of January.

I plan to post a plot and cultural synopsis soon, but for now I will tell you that it’s a sci-fi coming of age story that borders on the slipstream genre with many fantasy elements throughout.