Schrödinger's Monster
The pet, nowhere (yet
everywhere, despite fogger bombs),
never grew more terrorizing—
dinners of doubletakes,
movies missed in side glances,
romance unignited by candle—
than in that panopticon decade
after the denial of an empty tank:
“Mo-om, where’s—?"
“We need books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us.”—Kafka (against the safe-space cancel culture pushed by anti-art bullies, left and right)