The trick is to not look directly at it. When I apologizeto my mother, my eyes are half-closed. Consider carbonfootprint, a lineage of debt. Considerhow cars have lonelied the world,how to reach extinction when every exodushas already fled. I try to believe in reincarnation.By that I mean everything boils down to animalparts. Each of my dreams is a prayer in whichwe have no arms and open spread-eagledanyway. The apology to my mother began like this: I amsorry. I am cleaning out my body for second use. I amwashing in, belly up amid a tide of mourning.
Mackenzie Duan (Sat,) studied this question.