They say color doesn’t make a man. But green makes a witch. The green of the tears of trees or the flattened old bill or the slices of bread standing too long. They… Continue reading →
Sway, my love, hips buckling, the mambo pushes your legs up, to my hand. The drums pound to the foot’s prance, and a shoulder’s wave sparks the width of the floor. Arms hip-… Continue reading →