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Poem	In rainy September when leaves grow down to the dark I put my forehead down to the damp seaweed-smelling sand. What can we do but choose? The only way for human beings is to choose. The fern has no choice but to live; for this crime it receives earth water and night. we close the door. "I have no claim on you." Dusk comes. "The love I have had with you is enough." We know we could live apart from the flock. The sheldrake floats apart from the flock. The oaktree puts out leaves alone on the lonely hillside. Men and women before us have accomplished this. I would see you and you me once a year. We would be two kernels and not be planted. We stay in the room door closed lights out. I weep with you without shame and without honor.
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