Poetic Referendum(s) On Life

Barking Kafka Gun

The Barking Kafka Postulate

Kafka’s gun is barking at me.
I think I’m gonna go off in the second act.
What’s my motivation?
Ask the author of me who improvises all things,
provokes and manipulates me into action.
I could kill my puppeteer,
but then I’d be dead.
And would I be resurrected for the matinee?
Hoping for writer’s block.
I should get out of bed.

5.12.24

Writ in a few moments, not fully realized. Just like a barking Kafka gun.

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