Pantomime

spurs

and rhinestones

spinning in pantomime,

geodesy, terrestrial gravity,

revolutions measured by astrolabe,

expression by gesture, Grand Ol' Opry,

proctor, the

ecclesiastical

court jester, Judge

Priest, the gavel slams,

ecumenic, plutocrat overrule,

hold sway, call in Hypatia, miscellany,

chop suey, breaking up pieces...

Neo-Platonist

philosopher, mathematician,

astronomer of Alexandria. Her

prominence, adherence to pagan

scholasticism led to her being murdered

by a Christian mob, she invented instruments

used to view the stars and wrote commentaries

on mathematics and astronomy, though none of

them survives, buried of body politics, Patsy Cline

and Marilyn Monroe died too,

genuflectory,

Hypatia, I call upon 

thee to bind the cosmiclabes,

Pussy, the pudenda entwined

by their strength in numbers of

group hairs f***ing geometrics on

the triangle trellis, curls climbing to the

top reaching ethereal orgasm where the

Stars play...

Copyright 11/13/2009 Ms. Sage Sweetwater, firebrand lesbian novelist

Abaco Barb Wild Mustangs

island coiffed pubic

mane on

fire,

she's in the Bahamas,

island of Abaco,

a creative spirit

of a mighty woman I

admire,

lying naked in a swaying

rainbow hammock,

150 miles off  Florida's

Gold Coast,

hoofbeats unstrung,

quiet as a lesbian

guitar refinisher

ghost,

supping expired milk from

a coconut

shell,

singing Billy Idol's Rebel

Yell,

in the midnight hour, she

cries moremoremore,

facing extinction,

8 Abaco Barb wilds,

four remaining mares

and one stallion now

back in their natural

habitat, the three other

stallions waiting for a

protected area,

the woman who made

her debut in the Patsy

Cline Hank Williams '50s

mighty like the 200 strong

pinto, bay, and roan

mustangs who made their

debut some 20 years

later in the Michael Martin

Murphy Pony named Wildfire

'70s, running through hundreds

of acres of forest, free as

the Sea of Sage she once

conquered, "there's been a

hoot-owl howling by my

window now for six nights

in a row, she's coming for me, I know

and on Wildfire we're both gonna

go," make your way back like the

Spanish Barbs...

"She ran callin' wildfire...she ran callin' wildfire..."

Copyright 2006 Sage Sweetwater, firebrand lesbian novelist, brainchild of Sage Sweetwater Creative Properties, flagship of Stone Creek Woman

I'd Bet My Indian Runes: Razor Straps and Wild Oats

they took me off

the hot list, so I'm

at the hitchin' post,

razor straps and wild

oats, El Paso and Conchita

are memories, banished my titles,

tits and ass, tattoos and grass, I'm

walkin' into the saloon, my mind's sharp

as a lavender-handle razor, Marty Robbins

of next century, what they did to her didn't

even phase her,

threatened me with

literary starvation, I, Squaw

Dega put another quarter in

the jukebox of the next century,

freedom eagle-side up, bartender

Chief Tackerbow set the ink well

up all around, "On the House ladies

and gentlemen - woman can write of

her passion!"

my fans poured me

whiskey, my feather-quill

in my headband, Waylon and

Willie of the next century, the

Outlaw Spirit doesn't answer to

weary, the spirit of Patsy Cline Walkin'

After Midnight, bathing in the water trough

nuzzling with I, Squaw Dega's filly,

where the hell you

came from, the moon's

representative, I'll never

know, I took one look at you

and your mane of hair, woman

of the prairie, inspiration seeped

from between my moss-coated thighs,

we'd f***, yea, there'd be pussy, I saw

your sheets hanging of the next century, I'd

bet my Indian Runes, razor straps and

wild oats...

I...

Copyright 2007 Ms. Sage Sweetwater, firebrand lesbian novelist