Sonnet: Beneath the Castle Where the Giants Are in Love
by John Kendall Hawkins
Someone was busting Kafka's balls again --
day-glo graffiti smirking in the dark
he read by the light of a firefly spark
imprisoned in a jar, no trial. When,
where, why? Who are they? What was it this time?
Was it because of certain dark changes
he proposed one night on the Charles Bridge, ranges
of thought expanding the scope of Man's mind?
Whatever it was he wrote on the wall
of the bridge in the dark had brought disdain
to his reputation, he sought a name
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