Sage Sweetwater, unrivaled, bringing you the Upper Tier in lesbian erotica...Sage Sweetwater, the exceptional ARTIST of literary lesbian poetic prose...
the wind was heavy with the scent of obedience to God, my horse stepped with a shiver of fear, my breath strong of the day's saloon beer, we stumbled upon her in the scripture of a loose dirt clod, there she was, in a burrow woven in the willows, in a sacred anointing in the wilderness, myrhh, aloes, cassia, frankincense, Rose of Sharon,
"To the one we are the smell of death; to the other, the fragrance of life," she spoke, predilection for her sexual liking of women. "Would you be so kind to take off your spurs and bend to anoint my feet? balm blesses - you good samaritan woman, what say you to what lies underneath buckskin dresses?"
"Pussy." I tipped my hat, "Call to the Spirit when we f***" - I pulled a quill from my beaded tresses, handed her an inkwell bundled in parchment from inside my bedroll - "just write Sagebrush Truth on the back of this playing card and we'll get on with it - my religion is anointed with Whiskey and Sagebrush Truth in Eights & Aces"...
she pulled out a crock booze jug and a well-worn gun butt, "bootlegger camp upstream," I, the firebrand, a firm believer in sleeping in haystacks, about to be escorted between a tumbleweed whiskey-runner woman lover's legs,
I was advised of her by telegram, pursued her across the badass land - an admirer of the firebrand, she sent me the telegram, on and on flew the dots and dashes at the speed of lightning - the trill of metallic and labial pulsations - "Would you be so kind to take off your spurs and bend to anoint my feet? balm blesses - you good samaritan woman, what say you to what lies underneath buckskin dresses?" she ordered it repeated back,
"I am prepared to find you a church in Cripple Creek"... I ordered it repeated back,
A ghostly rider saddled upon the wind, the scent of myrhh, aloes, cassia, frankincense, Rose of Sharon, angelic chords from a church organ and Marshall Tucker...
The Lavender Outlaw is in the House! The Firebrand Rocks! Sage Sweetwater's Authors Den poetry being transcribed to song by Iceland Songwriter Finnur Bjarki Sage Sweetwater Lesbian Songwriter Inducted into Porterhouse Music http://www.porterhouse.is
Marshall Tucker and Cripple Creek. I believe that was a hit by "the band" probably sometime in the late sixties. I liked this line of warning, "would you be so kind to take off your spurs." Lady Sage, your words ring of dust ball overtones and tumbleweed sometime in the early to late 1800's. Areal cowboy, excuse me, cowgirl feel of enlightenment if you will. Much to say of the open trail. Tim
Another striking unique only to Sagebrush write that intriques and erotizes at the same time,your sense of biblical interaction with sensuality in the female relationships is sweet to say the least...I love these.
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Love,
ET
Sandie May Joyce :o)
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. :)
Love the way you write. Such imagery and memorable lines: excellent! My favorites:
"horse stepped with a shiver of fear" and "about to be escorted between a tumbleweed whiskey runner woman lover's legs" (bet you went willingly! LOL).
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.