In a Kafka Tense
by Mark J. Mitchell


Everyone carries a room around inside him.
Franz Kafka , First Blue Ottavo Notebook, first entry

It’s a real house,
small, neat, blue,
resting on Alchemist’s Alley—
that’s a real street.

Small hands tend it—
never his own hands—
keeping sheets white
and putting pens away.

His eyes flick from
his white window
to a whiter page.
Nothing happens

On this real street
you’ve never seen,
in a real house
where he’s still dead.






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