as sure as the moss binder in my mud chimney, I saw him - The Stallion of Legend Airs!
the piece of sky that I could see was lavender, my horse lit fire to the trail, limbs tearing away, a rotten tree trunk put us to a temporary stop, "Widow Makers," old-timers called such debris,
the woman who would later shepherd my growth and contribute to my fame, sat upon a limestone ledge high above, next to an abandoned eagle's nest, flying a paper kite with the emblem of The Stallion of Legend Airs, a hundred feet of lariat twine, she roped the wind,
I watched her tame The Stallion of Legend Airs, his lifeblood in his flanks as he bucked and kicked ether, his tail and mane scattered, all hell broke loose, in my mind she was a 1960s horsetamer's daughter, my pussy afire, "rub me in paraffin to get me to slide!"just then, The Stallion of Legend Airs crashed upon the "Widow Makers" and I tied the lariat twine around the debris and onto the martingale, mounted my horse, took a pull off the whiskey bottle with fire to pull the reins back, clearing a rotten tree trunk, a designated landmark to my turning point,
the uninterrupted panorma of earth and sky surround the hissing tattletale wind of those who try to bring the firebrand down and breach the solitude,
as sure as the moss binder in my mud chimney, we f***ed in the roughhewn buggy barn, transforming dead wood into living art - limbs, burls, trunks, stumps, and hot crotches - there exists a tune here anyway, because we are spiritually attuned...
Whoa, my horse took off in a flash and never looked back as each word sped by igniting flames I thought had died. After this I am once again alive. Oh sweet Sage. Excellent. Liz
"transforming dead
wood into living art - limbs, burls,
trunks, stumps, and hot crotches - there
exists a tune here anyway, because we are
spiritually attuned..."
Where there is unity and life and verve, there will always be transformation and insight. Extraordinary insights dear friend!
During the 1960's a young soldier struggles with basic training, a bully sergeant and his own inner demons. A tale of struggle, redemption and survival.
A young technician mourns his lover until he meets another man - a man with a secret. But there are other secrets as a jealous ghost returns to protect his turf.
When the powers-that-be make the decision to return a selfish party-girl, Zara, to Earth on three missions of redemption, can romance and mayhem be far behind? One hot and trendy gay nightclub, two bickering angels and three unlikely pairs add up to
Regis (Reg)
Love,
Chanti Lace
"transforming dead
wood into living art - limbs, burls,
trunks, stumps, and hot crotches - there
exists a tune here anyway, because we are
spiritually attuned..."
Where there is unity and life and verve, there will always be transformation and insight. Extraordinary insights dear friend!
Blessings ...
Richard