The plagiarist covers your
tracks and then his own. 
Days of birdsong just before
dawn, the children already
awake. In the afternoons
eating macadamias, enough
rain all at once to drown
the drought. The estuary, 
another metaphor for
paradise. What constitutes
coherence to the sky and its
clouds. The whole house was
covered with vines – and not
just covered, but grown over, 
grown through, tumbling
down with vines, though
the old man, my grandfather, 
continued to live there. 
Significance, which is endless, 
like moving underwater. An
infectious rash. Have you
made life the condition of
your art.