When I wake in the night and thinkof what I might have said in class that day,I wonder why my life consistsof inarticulate occasions.No timely word, only belated ones.Every hour a first draft, and then another.It makes me want to announce, “Listen!Listen to what I do not say. Listento what it is you cannot say yourselves.”There are sighs and groans, just sighs and groans.Interpret them, dear ones, as you may.
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