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35 The Poem You are about to read a poem, but the critic comes, austere, a man of authority, and offers to help you. You had not supposed that you needed help, but his tone of voice and his gold-rimmed spectacles are evidence of his seriousness. Why not? He picks up the poem, sniffs it, Holds it to the light this way and that, then he wads it up, puts it in his mouth, and chews it slowly, contemplatively, and swallows. You wait for a while as he digests it and then excretes it. He offers you a well-formed, not especially malodorous turd in a blue and white chamber pot. “This,” he says, “will be better for you.” If you believe him, you are an English major. ...

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