The teacher rises voiceless before a class
Of pale, tight-lipped children.
The blackboard behind him as black as the sky
Light-years from the earth.
Of pale, tight-lipped children.
The blackboard behind him as black as the sky
Light-years from the earth.
It’s the silence the teacher loves,
The taste of the infinite in it.
The stars like teeth marks on children’s pencils.
Listen to it, he says happily.
The taste of the infinite in it.
The stars like teeth marks on children’s pencils.
Listen to it, he says happily.
– Charles Simic
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