Men at the helm of a magazine

Brod: Does this poem create a consistent space?

Editor: I wish he'd pursued more of the goat theme in this poem.

Brod: I hate references to cafés in poem.

Kafka: Why is this even a poem? Why isn't it a presidential speech?

W: Stop trying to analyze the first part of the poem; we're not going to publish it because it ends with this heroic couplet: "Now grief glints and inhabits every tear / because you'll never again breathe life here."

Brod: We could publish this with extensive footnotes.

Editor: Actually, maybe this is a good time to tell you, that this poem was subtitled, "For N. B.," that is, myself. But that doesn't change anyone's mind about it, I suppose, nor should it.

It didn't.