By Anthony DiMatteo
I pitched next to a graveyard, afraid but relieved by how little noise the dead made, glad they slept better than I ever could, tossed in dreams, hearing voices, morphing everything into them, the hoot of an owl or the pulse of a cricket, the beck and call of the dead everywhere in the nowhere I lay down in, soft as a pile of manure, fetid though nowhere to be seen. No one dreams the dream of the dead. If dreamt, no one wakes to tell it.
Photograph by Alexandre Brondino