by Jason Grant The entire king-sized bed is mine now, but I can’t seem to move from the left side to the right because on the nights you were here—laying there—if I dared move from my side to yours in the middle of the night it was like I-was-crossing-some-boundary you-needed…
by J.P. Colby on these bright days of milk and violet light causes life to flash through thoughts like chalk spread hard, sprawled on pavement. overhead a man hangs paintings in a house of white. daisies litter his mound of clay. He builds a house of clay. He perfumes his…
by J.P. Colby Looking ahead all I can see are dark shapes; suggestions as to what may lay in wait. But I am not scared; if ever I can’t sleep because of the dark monsters lurking ahead, I can look behind me, or directly down at myself as a reminder…