(to my mother and father)

from the mouths of corpses
the seeds fly
into inside
the ocean is

weeds eclipsed by yellow suns
light stutters through
wait and watch
the epiphany said
collapse and start again
companion to isolation
friend of regret
slow breeze blow through time
childs breath mending sight
starting clocks of the unending daylight
so lay down in seed dawn
away from the deep cut night
inherent beauty of scattered souls
searching sacred earth for another place
as with these holes we become whole
fly fly away
what we have been is what we are
mother of millions fathers of forever
fly fly away
into the inside
what breaks, becomes
we are the traces

the traces

left for the next

the next;


Patrick Jones
Pic: Claire Palmer



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