Self Portrait 3

He could have resigned himself to a prison. To end as a prisoner - that could be a life's ambition. But it was a barred cage that he was in. Calmly and insolently, as if at home, the din of the world streamed out and in through the bars, the prisoner was really free, he could take part in everything, nothing that went on outside escaped him, he could simply have left the cage, the bars were yards apart, he was not even a prisoner.

*

He has the feeling that merely by being alive he is blocking his own way. From this sense of hindrance, again, he deduces the proof that he is alive.

*

The bony structure of his own forehead blocks his way; he batters himself bloody against his own forehead.

*

He feels imprisoned on this earth, he feels constricted; the melancholy, the impotence, the sicknesses, the feverish fancies of the captive afflict him; no comfort can comfort him, since it is merely comfort, gentle head-splitting comfort glozing the brutal fact of imprisonment. But if he is asked what he actually wants he cannot reply, for - that is one of his strongest - he has no conception of freedom.

(a page out of Kafka's "He", Notes From the Year 1920)

Disappearance

The worn out suit
I call myself
Coming apart at the seams
Too tight this
Skin that threatens
Suffocation as possibility
Pushes against
A carefully woven face
Thread by thread
Un-
Ravel
ing
Until I lay in coils about my feet
Naked breath
Staining the air

time bandits

Evil: God isn't interested in technology. He cares nothing for the microchip or the silicon revolution. Look how he spends his time, forty-three species of parrots! Nipples for men!
Robert: Slugs.
Evil: Slugs! HE created slugs! They can't hear. They can't speak. They can't operate machinery. Are we not in the hands of a lunatic?