A Poltice from a Coultas

In tracing a passage through grass, lacking physical

evidence I turn to

the language of ….


A horse of a different color                    A

dark horse


Stop Horsing around

Hold your Horses

Flogging a dead Horse

Rode hard and put up wet

Chomping at the bit

Oh Horse hockey!


Shake a leg, y’all being helped on? Money burning a

hole in your pocket (when he said this, a silver

dollar was a slug of silver)


Whoa nellie whoa

Quit skylarking around

I’ll jerk a knot in your tail

Barn door’s open and your horse is getting out

Stand by while I try to revive these dead horses.


Soon I was writing in the language of horse drawn days


Here apply this to your sore tooth, it’s a

 poltice from a Coultas.

Shove it in your crown of burly leaves

Find a better use for tobacco other than to kill my

father, make a doily for the arms of chairs. Although

these tobacco plates leave a tar ring


                         I’ve churned their own words

Count on your chicken which are hatching or all

resting in one basket

Get your Bacon caught in a ringer

Like a mule at a trough or silk ear stolen from a

sow’s purse


I’m sorting needles in the sun while the haystack

still shines


milk milk lemonade

round the corner

fudge is made.


We sang she’ll be coming around the mountain when she

comes , and of the old cotton fields back home and we

have neither mountians nor cotton fields. We have

tobacco worms, tumble bugs and june bugs



She’ll be riding 6 white horses when she comes she’ll

be riding 6 white horses when she comes

whereas inreality we ride one white pony


The old books, unprotected from humanity which I took

with me because I need another language


Who readThe Carpetbagger?

“Take your shoes off at the bridge.” My Grandpa said,

“We’re entering Kentucky.”