Another tale from Burroughs-ian writer Eric Lastick
UNUSUAL THEMES OF THE BOLD AND OLD AMERICAN WEST Part 1:
PEARL Taylor Heart, wild girl of the West. Canada’s own…and only female stagecoach robber of the American territories.
Pretty Miss Pearl, gaper-eyed and gatefold’s request of ‘’sing and songs’’ as an old saloon barkeep at a hundred dusty miles past the many border runs…law on her tail…as her stakes rather high.
Mistakes were few; and so, to every corner of the unknown, wild and mealy mouthed bar club sods, fill the card tables…stretches of dirty-armed grasps, and pulled up skirts of old styled jaded strumpets—-with grasps and whiskey breaths towards every tomfoolery at these rustbelts of western storefronts…and the fast drawn medicine shows—–like a link to the late eighteen hundred’s new-fangled centers…and odes. Pearl, a fast-toting gun slinging gal—-with such pretty looks of every assumed spotter and transgressor of style …and old west ways.
Her disguises and looks that could kill…and she surely did; right at Hilltop wondrous wanderers, left unabandoned. Brash and beautiful…lights in the air gunfire. Gunplay as the wild. ‘’A bandits claim’’. Purveyors of the darkness. Sullen and shock of all the riveled underpinnings, expressed in all the surfaces of Miss young, Pearl Taylor Heart.
‘’WILD GIRL OF ALL THE WEST’’ And to the spurn of one Annie Oakley. Menace prank and shot gun stillness…festooned ringers of Calamity Jane. Death symbols…sounds…critters; and takes of the ride. Pearl outlaw rider…fringes 7 acres up. 7th river to the very last stagecoach she masks…and of 7 times success! 7-mark her gun belt, until you give up everything clear out of your pockets—-including one’s watch and chain…jewels, and even your woman’s shoes…as all are handed over with Pearl’s cropped butch boy haircut…bandit rapped mask…pen ink too spills, as Pearl took the hardened rough trails—-writing her own diaries and memories, in glowing joys, and songs.
Tempering an appropriable note. Skill me up a silver set of dollars…bringing’s of the silver moon and temped skies. Sit a spell in glory…mix and mingle round circle and canopy rings of the Cherokee…right round Peedee river. Fish and hard sowings…ways away from the Arizona line till home. Learned from the best—-with rides and riches alongside the notorious outlaws of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance kid.
Pearl Taylor Heart, pack heavy, the bullet belt saddled ride with her horse—too holds of torch…all the undaunted places. The stretches of Arizona cantinas. The opens of the twenty-four seven runs…and that of fear and all the angry uglies of Marshal man hate. Pearl’s popularity drew her of a folk hero. A writer of wild woman rides. Though she grew weary over time, as her skills and stealthy ways succumbed to the righteousness of the law, and of the land. Pearl, lady of charm and celebrity, was finely caught by eighteen and ninety-two. ..as after her prison time gathered gear off to Kansas city Missouri, writing her memoirs’. Disguising herself as Pearl Keel, for one last outlaw fling. Yet this time she was caught in a petty theft; once again losing her freedom by the delusions of the surrounds of a cigar store Indian. Ironically, while stealing a jelly roll and a quick slab of bacon. Indians and dates, traits of her final gangster fall of a general store.
Pearl took her final breath by the mirages of the Arizona waters. Cactus climbs…and nursery times of children she’d never known. Only herself, as a lady outlaw. She died well past her eighty years, in 1955.
Booked and shelved.
#america #pearlheart #stagecoach #wildwest
