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Sage Sweetwater

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Books by Sage Sweetwater
Sage Sweetwater extends a Newsletter Invitation to her friends and fans. Only available exclusively on Authors Den.
Newsletter Dated: 6/20/2007 2:18:30 PM

Subject: Reclaiming Lost Sacred Literary Domains: Sustaining The Ecological Matrix

From the desk of Sage Sweetwater, this month's newsletter defines Sage Sweetwater's spiritual quest to reclaim lost sacred literary domains and sustain the ecological matrix. Sage Sweetwater has a steady, prolific quilling of poetic tales of the old ways. Sage places lesbianism on another plane of being with a variety of storytelling which embodies her selective, collective memory. This selected Native poetry is Sage Sweetwater's symbolic tableau of her climb up the rungs of the ladder. Up and over the top rung, Sage Sweetwater passes along vital information, lending wisdom to prevent spiritual poverty and maintain sacred lesbian sexuality. The spread of Christianity weakened Native cultures by disrupting traditional values and Christianity underminded effect on cosmology. After the stone axe, song and story maintain balance.



Liquid Light Feather: Native Distillation


Catalyst to
help focus
concentration

temporary
celibacy

new passion
soars to the
point of
insanity

a soft spot
of attraction,
emotional
warmth

transform the
energy through
feather

enlightened quality
of being temporarily
celibate by choice

spontaneous
flight of bliss

imagining the
probing of her
inspired kiss

she is a babe
in the woods

the bewitching
call of the
painted
warrioress

woman is the
fire, her matrix
the fuel

liquid light feather
Native distillation

thought of
enlightenment
rising

elixir, myrhh
and cedar

aromas suffuse
the air

spontaneous
naked authenticity

true voluptuousness
feather pillows

bed her in
hologram

circulation of
light to create
the mysterious
pearl

amorous
vertigo

in expectant
bliss

ultimate unity

surrender your
sex!

Are you done
when you are
finished?


Copyright 2006 Sage Sweetwater,
firebrand lesbian novelist

_______________________________


If Skulls and Ravens Could Talk:
The Seven Fires Prophesy at Four Corners


she stands out
in a cornfield, poses
as a scarecrow, fat raven
perched on a bleached skull,

if skulls could talk, this
skull would say "Seven Fires
Prophesy, the seventh fire will
light the eighth,"

two roads for the
light-skinned people,
they made the wrong choice
of roads, the destruction they
brought, their greed and road to
technology, the road that has led
to a damaged Earth,

the second road
leads to spiritualism,
a slower path, Mother
Earth is not burned up
on this trail, water drums
provide the sound of the
Four Corners, where Colorado,
Utah, Arizona, and New Mexico
converge, Shawpita, the chosen
one climbing to the top of the
ladder from the ground up that
has been reached, deserving at
every level of the ladder rung,
showing the direction to the people,
it is the Fifth Fire, false promise,
those...those who abandon the ancient
ways, where the canteen of life becomes
the cup of grief, the skull of an Indian
where the light-skinned race launched an
attack taking away their land and
independence, as history repeats itself,

she stands out in
a cornfield, poses
as a scarecrow, fat
raven perched on a
bleached skull, where
are the people of the
seventh fire?

Copyright 2006 Sage Sweetwater,
firebrand lesbian novelist
________________________________


Sage Sweetwater bringing you the
Upper Tier in lesbian erotica...

Wind River Shoshone Woman


burning wild celery,
woodpecker drills a hole
to remind me how to get to
the sap, I emulate, I know
the drill, thrust good measure
harnessed in my leather strap,
don't you need...in your lap, and I...

...take what's rolled inside
the cornhusk, the vision is born
from the smoke rising dusk, fish
for salmon in spring, gather acorns
in fall, in b'tween, masturbate with
the fantasy of your basketry not so
tight, it leaks, teach celibacy how
to speak different languages, extinguished
from the dew of a leaf before I can stone,
Mama Cass Elliot sings Creeque Alley,
"McGuinn and McGuire still are gettin'
higher in L.A. you know where that's
at," and I...

...Wind River Shoshone Woman,
fast until I see a robin, my
transition in the early spring,
I keep count of the passionate
nights we fucked, on a marked
stick, Black Wind made Earth,
Yellow Wind made Light, Lavender
Wind made love, notched feather
dyed red, according to warrior
coupe, I was wounded, transition
turned blood of the feather to
ink of the quill, I dreamed a
storm, when I woke, my heart was
painted with a jagged thunderbolt
that tore into my left breast, my
body thrashed with the marks
of hailstones, and I...

...have vivid visions you are
the moon's representative, making
an ancient appearance, bringing me
Light from the dark who tramped on
my garden and chased pussy from
range, I know the drill, thrust
good measure, the deepest Truth
harnessed in my leather strap,
don't you need...in your lap,
and I...

...Wind River Shoshone Woman
love this beautiful land, red
cedar message-laden, the Salmon
elders ask if I followed their
instructions, fish for salmon
in spring, gather acorns in fall,
in b'tween, masturbate with the
fantasy of your basketry not so
tight, it leaks, teach celibacy
how to speak different languages...

I...


Copyright 2007 Ms. Sage Sweetwater,
firebrand lesbian novelist

Evolving our Vision...

http://www.AuthorsDen.com/adstorage/29292/nativesound.mid
_____________________________________


Norwegian Wood: Woman of Medano Creek


the wind uncovered the
Indian fire rings...Sloane
met Woman of Medano Creek,
apple, Beatles white on the
inside, Rita Coolidge red on
the outside,

two soft females grating
their sex into the night
like two ponderosa pines
rubbing together, Woman
of Medano Creek and Sloane,
their curvy silhouettes falling
onto the fabric of my tent,
Norwegian Wood, I rubbed my
ruged knob, the raven's distant
cry only heightened the sense
of climax, Shawnee women have
their own notions of prosperity
and sexual freedom,

Woman of Medano Creek
and Sloane exemplified
me to a challenge, I
kind of like that because
the voyeur surfaced in me
and their currents of lovemaking
allowed me to pull myself off at
the pace of a museum stroll,
stimulating me, tempting my
exertion, coming hard, knowledge
to me is the Rocky Mountain's
greatest gift,

oblivious, I stepped from
my tent, the mirage teasing
me with lustful visions, I
tipped my jerrican and doused
myself with cold water, the
Indian fire rings now circled
with charcoal and bones,

in reality, there is no
reason not to believe I,
Sloane, did not fuck Woman
of Medano Creek last eve,
remnants of her tent stakes
daring me to find my way down
into the canyon,

I, Sloane, put my
canoe into the water
and joined the Colorado
at the confluence, Norwegian
Wood, paddled into late afternoon,
a woman's shadow lengthened, the
canyon rim flared red, then lavender,
a woman motioning to me from atop
Temptation Stone guided my heat,
standing at the foot of her bedroll,
her tent stakes daring me to find my
way down, I kissed her ruged knob
jumping flames from her charcoal
softness below her navel fire ring,
Woman of Medano Creek said, "the ore
ran out at the turn of the century,
I saved you a nugget, Sloane..."


Copyright 2006 Sage Sweetwater,
firebrand lesbian novelist,

http://www.AuthorsDen.com/adstorage/29292/NORWEGIAN.mid
_______________________________


Animas Woman of Durango


I awoke to a
cold ground blizzard,
the chill factor well
below zero, the traders
had made trips to the
woodpile, the warmth
of the crackling fire
thawed my eyelids,
I saw her on traders
row in the San Juan,

kokanee salmon lying
on her table, Jim Bridger,
the first white man to set
eyes on her, stopped his wagon
filled with gunpowder, balls,
flints, bear traps, and whiskey,
asks Kit Carson who she is.
Bridger takes off his beaver
hat, turns it up, throws inside
it a bottle of whiskey and sets
it on her table, "Raise a little
Cain, Animas River Woman of Durango,"
he said, picked up one of her kokanee
off to his wagon for a cast-iron skillet
and cooked his fish trade over the
crackling fire,

The buckskin tipis
weaved through the
vertical trunks of
the tightly-packed
dog-hair lodgepole,
the sounds are intimate,
the grunts and snorts of
the elk where rut has come,
the ground near the Animas
river muddy with elk prints,
the big bull tearing up the
sod with his antlers, I make
my way to Animas River Woman
of Durango before the men get
to her in rut season,

I set my bubbling
cauldron of homemade
soup and a special flint
on her table, and picked
up one of her kokanee salmon,
"Raise a little Cain, Animas
River Woman of Durango," I say,
Jim Bridger I laid eyes on her
first, you see, it's all how you
do your trading and your priorities,
the errant tomahawk sliced my trade
fish I am holding, Kit Carson's throw
way off course in the men's competition
trader's row games, black powder
shooting, bow and arrow, trap setting,
skillet throwing, and the like,

"bring the whiskey,
Animas River Woman of
Durango," I motion her
to my tipi not about to
find myself empty handed
after months of isolation
and hardship, I demonstrate
my primitive fire starting
technique, our rendezvous
hot, the flint scintillating
our naked flesh,

Mesa Verde cliffdwellers
arrive with their pots, a
very welcome sight on trader's
row, Jim Bridger offers Animas
River Woman of Durango and I,
Sweetwater, a hand in taking
down our tipis and took us
off in his wagon journeying
on to the The Four Corners through
Ignacio, Cortez, and Mesa Verde
where we met Stone Creek Woman who
pointed up to a bird in the sky and
said, "It is up to the pinon jay
where to fly next, but there is no
reason not to observe its flight."


Copyright 2006 Sage Sweetwater,
firebrand lesbian novelist

http://www.AuthorsDen.com/adstorage/29292/OctoberMoon.mid
_______________________________


The Dream: I Stake Claim to the Hide


Sage Sweetwater bringing you
the Upper Tier in lesbian erotica...


white cornmeal cleansing
my mind, brain-tanned hide
buys me religious freedom and
uncensored land, their failed
attempt to remake the firebrand,
trembling, holding my spiritual
advisor's hand,

earth brushed, fragrant
grasses burned, the Dream,
I stake claim to the hide,
blood of the buffalo where
it died, dust in the wind,
going down below your navel,
the smoke hole, passageway to
the heavens,

buffalo hide thongs hang
aloft from the celestial
vault, we fuck in every
direction, being freed
from the bonds of flesh,
dust in the wind, secure
in knowledge, cosmic
order in the mesh,

you dribble grains
of ground sandstone
through your fingertips,
the moon is on the wane,
say it, say you don't feel
alone going down below my navel,
this image summons my orgasm,
moisten your parched tongue,
scatter it in four directions,
does it affect your affections?

pain and loneliness
one must endure to
acquire knowledge,
true wisdom is to
be found far away
from the people,
dust in the wind,
my spiritual advisor,
have I reached spiritual
maturity? The Dream,I stake
claim to the hide...will you
fuck me wiser?

emergence, flanking the
Pacific, pheromone, serotonin,
you're carrying clouds, you
encourage me to reach, be prolific,
humbling, emblematic of long-standing
spiritual connection that comes with
great sacrifice, dust in the wind,
The Dream, I stake claim to the hide...

I...

Copyright 2007 Ms. Sage Sweetwater,
firebrand lesbian novelist

Evolving our Vision...

http://www.AuthorsDen.com/adstorage/29292/DustInTheWind.mid
___________________________________


Frozen Mukluks and the Whiskey Ladder


Sage Sweetwater bringing you
the Upper Tier in lesbian erotica...


snow lets up,
see from a distance,
whiteout-bob of two
white cotton tails, rabbit-no,
pom-pons on a pair of mukluks-yes -
made from rabbit, below zero, firebrand
roasting quails, kindling ablaze-I
think here walks in my hero,

your fur is frozen
way on up above the
top of your boots, through
my Native American roots,
the spirit of generosity, I
kneel, give you warm tongue,

"I've moved to a
new land, you've thawed
me," you said, your hands
in my hair pushing my face into
you harder, "Ocean there, only
snowed three times in the last thirty
years, seventy degrees 'til midnight,"

"Hotter than that here
at midnight, raven in the
moonlight-Mason and flint,
whiskey ladder-featherbed
climb to the top rung?" For the
first time, I hear you say in a
whisper, barely audible,

"I"...


Copyright 2007 Ms. Sage Sweetwater,
firebrand lesbian novelist

Evolving our Vision...

http://www.AuthorsDen.com/adstorage/29292/SongOfHealing.mid
__________________________________

Owl Shields Dealt in Prophecy


Sage Sweetwater bringing you
the Upper Tier in lesbian erotica...


you mounted the rungs,
naked, spread-eagle, your
face toward the moon,

I tied you,
rawhide obliging,
you cried in anticipation,
not knowing how we would
one day seduce and enchant
readers,

ermine skin glided
across your breasts,
I stood facing you on
the other side of the
ladder, your breasts
framed between the rungs,

I chewed leaves
of the mallow plant,
foreplay, reversal of
lactation, my milky
substance to suckle you,

slathered your nipples,
showing every sign of
being pleased with meeting
my tongue,

entering the dwelling,
on hands and knees,
spirits pawed through
the ashes of the fire in
search of your nursed
screams of passion, Owl
Shields dealt in prophecy,
"pin-tailed grouse, break
through her dense underbrush,"

four to the top
rung, I untied you,
my mouth watered as
I saw your pussy, swollen
lips, begging to be sucked,
shift right and left as you
climbed, quail topknot, acorn
woodpecker scalp laid on the
featherbed brought us to fuck
that surpassed words with a
visionary clarity, a world of
fire, glowing red with heat,

I rode on top
of you, spiritual
profanity articulated,
transforming powerful
oral tradition into literature,
expert linguists, the gods, our
intermediaries, your nation of earth,
my nation of fire followed the messengers
to the stars, a paint horse came along, we
rode orgasm with Lakota thunder spirits,
heyoka rose to peak where laid piled up
hundreds of trade blankets,

Zuni medicine orders,
deep within your womb,
it is here we learn about
fetishes...foxtail attached
to my heel, I climbed to the
ninth rung, second featherbed,
no materialism to affect my
popularity, bedaubed and streaked
with face paint,

I...


Copyright 2007 Ms. Sage Sweetwater,
firebrand lesbian novelist

Evolving our Vision...

http://www.AuthorsDen.com/adstorage/29292/peace.mid


Peace, dear readers...until we meet again, be well...Blessed Be.


~~~~Sage Sweetwater, firebrand lesbian novelist~~~~



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