Sage Sweetwater bringing you the Upper Tier in lesbian erotica...
stingray spine to pierce my will, blood spill, pull the lavender cord through the enlightened pray hole stained labial red, Light shines through my wings thinned by cult and organized religion parasite, where my feathers bled, priest molester skulls float,
you use a crossbow, shoot me rope to cross the water moat made of stone, this is the red-zone, dangerous the path we walk, a thousand-year-old trading route, lesbian missionaries are bold as soldiers, eery shadows of cocaine pilgrims perch upon my L-Word tattooed shoulders, went in search of the coffee-bean farmers who turned to coca, they work on commission, take it to the labs, main transportation is the river, they put it on dried fish, preachers snort the collection plate with rolled-up hundred-dollar bills,
we walk in thrift-store U.S. Army boots, talk to the ones who carry the Bible, when the water is low, jaguars come, in your jaguar-pelt jerkin, you taught yourself clay, our ultralight Top Gun air on floats, our church to the Amazon people, sage smoke steeple, Native American roots, next to our palm-frond bed, a bow and arrows, we f*** on apachetas, shrines to peace and hope, screaming pharaohs and sparrows, orgasmic lightning shoots across the sky like artillery, but it's another kind of fire, and then it rains...water lubricates life...
"water lubricates life" ... profound poetry, Sage ... as always, finely tuned unequaled imagery ... your boots walk through the poetic zeal of unique thoughts and conceptual combat ...
Cinematography - moving snapshots, full colour and theme - I need to read more to digest more story, but for me totally evocative of my years in South America, from coffee bean farming family to running a gay bar in the city, a lesbian midwife, teacher, missionary, church builder, community pastor chased barefoot out of her village - the side-by-side of all things sordid and clean, hypocrisy in every move - politicians, mafia and Jesus consumerism all with dazzling smiles on billboards, baby farms for body parts for sale on the internet, street kids wild and dangerous rounded up and shot in the woods or saved by charity workers and thieves, honest bandits and corrupt police and everything vice versa - a rich natural world abused, culled tribes, land rights 'Sen Terra' marching for land rights, and yet corrupted - the truth of the good and the bad all in every step, it's a thin line, a crazy world - it's a brave hearted nomad or a quiet small time farmer to cut through the jungle of all that bullshit, how hard to keep some sanity, good idea to search for one quiet with a book in hand, or one working a little patch of land, one or two I found helped my sanity from across the bar on a night - there is no hiding from all that in your poem, trade - every bill has been rolled in dirty hands, used to wonder which pockets and noses the 50’s had been in as they came across the bar - your poem brought those years back to me VIVID – great movie Sage, I'm going to read again...Nicky x
Martin Powers wanted an ironing board for Christmas. Instead, he got . . . Matthew Kieler, a non-returnable gift, but a gift that kept on giving. A powerful tale of survival, compassion and unapologetic love in the time of AIDS.
Share
Print
Save
Follow
this is deep, cool and hot!!!
Chrissy
Regis