 I took off my watch and saw the skin beneath the dog it was past one o'clock and Mayakovsky's suicide note was in his pocket a poem praising all creation in speechless wonder I lived my life through without a clock expecting failure as in a "modern" novel, you know the surveyor will never reach the castle, the coward proves valorous but dies in the attempt, we can't really believe in happiness and in success, Borges concluded, and that is why Kafka wanted his books burned he had wanted to write a happy book but it would have been a lie and his job was to tell the truth not the truth of facts but the truth of his dreams |
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