Ballad for Ripe Ladies

Vines no longer hold us. We are too ripe, to rich to swing. Ripe women fall. We release the vine because it can no longer claim us Succulent, dripping with nectar, heavy for the bite. We smile at the taut…

Race

I read this article this morning. I got that ‘taste’ in my mouth. It tasted of old iron, like blood but with a too familiar twang. It’s like trying to describe the flavor your tongue. Dang near impossible, hunh? I…