How stranger could I be to me?
How stranger could I be? Stranger,
weird, and wayward; this is
what they all around think of me.
Just out of the blue, they say,
my words are coming. And my thoughts,
they say, my thinking way is a sheer
weirdness. They wonder.
They wonder about me.
I wonder at me along with them.
Why I don’t keep my mouth shut?
Why? I’ve been told so many times:
People don’t want themselves to know,
they don’t; they don’t want themselves
to understand, they don’t; they don’t
want themselves to realize, to be aware of
what happens deeply in their own inner worlds.