A couple of items had led me to believe I was mistaken in a aspect of Kafka's life. And it proved that I was. I had him take two visits to Lake Como, when he really went to Lake Garda. I guess Alpine lakes all look the same.

However, on this roller coaster of discovery, I came across three items of startling interest. One (which many may already know) is the Internet site http://www.scribd.com/ I have barely had time to give it a glance, but among so many things are Kafka diaries and the complete works of Shakespeare (the guy who wrote Shakespeare's plays).

Secondly I came across a new play/movie about Kafka, Franz Kafka's Love Life, Letters,and Hallucinations in Short Scenes with Live Actors by Mae Ziglin Meidav. There is a segment on Youtube.

And third I came across a short story about Kafka in The Death of Picasso: New & Selected Writing, by Guy Davenport. I had never heard of Guy Davenport and find he died a couple of years ago.

Now comes my roundabout comment on poetry. Poetry makes you sit upright and pay attention. Poetry knocks your socks off. Poetry makes you glad that you are reading. This is when I know I'm reading poetry (of any form).

Although not poetry, this story by Guy Davenport made me sit up, pay attention, and read. It was exciting. It was thrilling. It transported me from my sad, lonely and empty life at Red Room. This guy, though dead, is a keeper.