ABSTRACT
M I S P L A C E D l o c a t i n g t h e I ' i n t h e f i e l d o f
t h e O t h e r
The baby new to earth and sky, What time his tender palm is prest Against the circle of the breast
Has never thought that 'this is F:
But as he grows he gathers much, And learns the use of T , and 'me', And finds 'I am not what I see,
And other than the things I touch'.
