Now is the storming of the heavens of armchairs and black woolen hats. The last ejaculation of spirit. They never promised me anything -- what did they promise you? No doubt you have it. A plane flies low over the street. I crouch down -- how could i do otherwise? Rent is due on the 1st. Please send me $500. I'm not joking, reality is serious. I will be crushed, humiliated. Max Ernst appears six feet from me. He is holding a blue bowl. There is no money in it. There is flame, and I swallow it. Now I am dead. I go out for a cigarette, and stand in the next doorway. A woman immediately arrives to go in the door. She has a blue shoulder-bag and she is holding a large blue empty crate in her hand. In the other hand she is holding a leash connected to a large dog. She barely glances at me, but the dog stops and turns round to look at me directly with big soft brown eyes. I decide I will put him in a picture. He will be holding a boot in his mouth. The sky is the crackling of a whip. Beneath the paraphanalia of your needles is my BLACK FOREST and my BLUE QUEEN. I am so at home it hurts.



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