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 Twixt A pattern is argyled on the surface of the highland stream, on the trouts’ flank-flash, on the pebbled, fundamental bottom. In its back-drift wake picture-perfects snake.
by Twixt And the wind blows, and reblows what was blown, and well-felt featly dealt rains are arraigned, a blank bank of souffled clouds appears drained, perky percolations gradually pool.