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 James Rushmore The waxing moon balances on the pine. Lonely brook meanders through the scrub brush, The mayflies hatch without mouths; No need to Eat; But just to make love without kissing. The June night befalls the fallen fish mine, The honey bees sleep, the petals close; lush. A…