Copper Steeple Fired My Ass to Write
she came
to the mountains
born to change social patterns
where the trees are her speechmakers
you can't always get what you want...but
you can make what you want purple majesty
the color of wine rocky mountains that mean everything
and a lot where teller gold buys dreams and rolling stones
show how big her cast got mountain goats and elk higher wild burros
lower foaled we grabbed one roadside to hold and kiss like the phantom
canyon roans
today's casino
pays last year's memories
that room I let go with the
scandalous keys for a hundred
year old house with a cot to cousin
the featherbed the wood stove with paper
to burn not shred the whiskey crock and the
mountain canary muslin you can make what you
want here
looked down the hill
the brothel as noticeable as
the madam's perfume sharing the
aspen's fragrance that still celebrates
1896 like a gossip quill dipped in topaz
the tombstone paid off before the roulette will
we spun the story from pure gold the wheel turned
back history bet it all on red turn of the century madam
it's no wonder the oil lamp spilled from the fight and the
town burned we are passionate about our affairs who hasn't had 'em
is lyin' in the ground preacher in the historical dust
copper steeple
fired my ass to
the top of the hill
more times at night
where I wrote the town
than the ghost spirit at
the bottom of the hill in
the dark window upstairs where
the wagon in front hides my spare
bottle of whiskey might I help save
someone in the night copper steeple
fired my ass to write and what god ever
told me to behave yes you can make what
you want fire is warming
Copyright Ms. Sage Sweetwater, Celebrity firebrand lesbian novelist
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Ron
Makes me think this should have been the title. Better off in the hundred year old house. Interesting read, but as usual per yer work, it's a steady diet of images with not much in particular to hold onto. Always interesting though. Bob