Sage Sweetwater
Told through the spirit of the loon with a hint of lesbian fairytale, THE BUCKSKIN SKIRT OAR TRAVELER is set in the forest of Lac du Flambeau, Wisconsin.
The Hamlet of Winonah is on one side of the forest, a primitive feminist tribe geared to start a new culture through their children, Winonah meaning “first-born daughter.”
The Province of Blige will be the other side, going into the Celtic fringe of postcard mythical Ireland.
Perhaps the Province of Blige will be the shop window for the lesbian community with fragrance chemists, designer-slip crafters and sprite-wing builders flying the purple flag on the Maypole.
The Buckskin Skirt Oar Traveler taps maple trees to make maple syrup. It’s the annual maple sugaring season.
Sage Sweetwater is the name of Colorado firebrand lesbian novelist, storyteller, poet, and songwriter. Sage Sweetwater is the lesbian equivalent to Louis L'Amour, master storyteller of the American frontier.
Sage Sweetwater has published three lesbian pulp fiction dime-store novels with AuthorHouse, THE BUCKSKIN SKIRT OAR TRAVELER and FROM THE CONVENT TO THE RAWHIDE: THE SAGA OF SADIE CADE AND VI MONTANA. Sage released BLUE CORN WOMAN in December 2007. Her FOUR CORNERS SERIES stories are the flagship of STONE CREEK WOMAN, a medicine camp in Colorado's Western frontier. Stone Creek Woman leads other women across Colorado's western frontier to get themselves back into the primal element of life in an undiluted, natural environment.
Sage Sweetwater stories are intentionally written for the movies, making sure her characters and plots are visual and translate well on screen. Sage Sweetwater's lesbian Western pulp fiction dime-store novel FROM THE CONVENT TO THE RAWHIDE: THE SAGA OF SADIE CADE AND VI MONTANA published by AuthorHouse is being adapted to screen to be a film.
Sage Sweetwater is a celebrity featured lesbian novelist on Authors Den.
http://www.authorsden.com/sagesweetwater
http://www.nextcat.com/sagesweetwater
http://www.myspace.com/sagesweetwater
Sage Sweetwater lesbian songwriter has been inducted into Porterhouse Music, co-writer with Iceland Composer/Songwriter Finnur Bjarki. Sage Sweetwater's poetry is being transcribed to song, geared for the recording studio to accomodate movie scores. Porterhouse is located in Reykjavik, Iceland
http://www.porterhouse.is
The Buckskin Skirt Oar Traveler pulled the oars into the canoe and let it free course while she poured herself a thermos cup of Crazy Loon…dark roast, bold, and intense. Out of nowhere she hears the tenor, Mario Lanza in operatic melody. Paddling upstream just to her left is a siren of a woman dressed in all black, tight cleavage spilling breast flesh…and there to catch it are two ample stoneware crocks sitting on black velvet throw pillows strewn about covering the canoe ribs. The crocks are embossed, one with the name Moonbeams…the other with the name Miracles, both crocks glazed on top like bean pots with wide cork stoppers.
As the woman casually paddled by, she smiled seductively, and turned the volume up on the Mario Lanza CD.
“What is your name?” the Buckskin Skirt Oar Traveler asked.
“Grayson.”
“I am the Buckskin Skirt Oar Traveler…sugar maker, and you will be my engaging new friend.”
“Speak love…make love,” Grayson said, pulling the oars into her canoe, letting it free course. She turned around backwards in her canoe to face the Buckskin Skirt Oar Traveler who is also turned backwards and drifting downstream. Grayson went down on her knees on the pillows and put her hand to her lips and blew the Buckskin Skirt Oar Traveler a mysterious kiss.
The fringe on the Buckskin Skirt Oar Traveler’s skirt stood up from the River Dance of sexuality, the canoes loaded heavy with sexual overtones. Night after night, we will make love and I will bring her to a tearful climax again and again; there will be screaming passion, piercing eye contact in red light, and...The Buckskin Skirt Oar Traveler masturbated furiously thinking…only if I did not have to deliver this coffee, I would go back for her and we would get down...but I can’t back out of that "hole" without spilling my load! She did anyway…spilled her load. What gives! This river had always been calm. Calm enough that she could balance a pea on a knife blade.
