Kafkaesque

Were you writing in blood

(Your own or others?)

as you created

the murder that was your mind?

(vultures and vermin

take up your time)

Was it the excruciating hell

Of searchlights and smoke

Of whips and corpses

That drove your mind to insanity?

Or did it unlock

the exploding light of genius?

I could never tell.

But it is a perfect art

Of masking

Comical madness

With the putrid odor

Of horror.

("As fragile

as tree trunks

in the snow....

But even that

Is only in appearance.")

mimi; 09/22/06

A/N: For Franz Kafka.