I have walked
the somber forests.
     (Ha! It is
     he who whistles
     of  love, romance
     and lost thought)
 I was the one who had done it--
There is a gentle tide on the rock.
You understand it; the tired thing
(Life happens again, again
      and again)

To be here--
to be here is to be that handful of dust;
     i knew it
     at a time

To be here is to fetch the women
    for the summer
    dances (hear, hear)

the beach rolls
&
the sand weeps