& already the rivers
run in reverse
& the least we can do
is help each other
put sky into our bodies
& even the protea have mothers
they can’t remember
& from what i can’t recall
death is without pants
& laughing again
& again we gather
to put something in
the ground that won’t grow
& the goal has always been
to travel by echo in echo
an echo
& every place is particular
-ly pleasant without people
& even without gills
we all return
to water
& even without water
we all return
we all
we