"woman got
caught up with;
tangled up in the
whore's petticoat,
she's between hay
and grass."

"crowbait and
lame, that horse
can't carry a sorry
ass to where we dry
gulched it, abandoned
the ass right where it lay,
it came a cropper, came to
ruin when the railroad didn't
come in."

"full as a
tick, anebriated
bloodsuckers the
whole lot up at the
gospel mill, jig is up."

"playin' to
the gallery
showin' off
she put a spoke
in the wheel--sabotage
is far from simon pure--day
turned out mudsill, low life nailed
to the counter proven a lie."

"we'll hang
fire, delay our
wager until the grass
widows consume the bunko
artists, we're ace-high according
to hoyle waitin' for 'em to quit beatin'
the devil around the stump; it's their
bone orchard, they're coppering their
bets betting to lose the doxology works
of a church, four flushers every damn one
of 'em swindlers."

Copyright Ms. Sage Sweetwater, firebrand lesbian novelist