The Dead Remained



We traverse the summers breast, for a length of silver, your enemies have broken sleep. See the bloody wave curl, in volcanoes, the shattered hovels, the rifle barreled eyes, they point out the windows. Of what continues, I have sought and found, what I have is in the midst of waves. Leave me in the middle of my own wound. I carry in my hand, the root and feather, the new shadow, from the ash of earth. I alone bury the seed, the dark scar, where the dead remain under shipwrecked stars.

-Josh Fleming

Remixing words from Pablo Neruda

Image by: Elsa Bleda



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