#540 The Art of Conversation V (1950)

Knit & pearl alternately for four 
rows. Underneath it, in white 
wool, long enough to interest, yet 
not long enough to tire, with the 
words written in a clear, legible 

hand, this note: "This is not a dream."
Written from the heart, the simple
eloquence of the words forces the 
ideogram to arrange itself accor-
ding to the laws of a simultaneous 

form. Avoid postscripts, punctuate 
carefully. Render the outline as a 
thin skin that must be pierced in 
order to follow, word for word, the 
outpouring of its internal text. A 

lie is not locked up in a phrase, but 
must exist, if at all, in the mind of 
the writer. In its millennial tradition
the essence of rhetoric is in allegory.
Never point. It is excessively ill-bred.

Sources:
This Is Not a Pipe, by Michel Foucault
The Ladies’ Book of Etiquette (1860), by Florence Hartley

#539 L'Aube à Cayenne (2)

The tree trunk taken, & turned
into a book. Dürer is praying a
miracle may occur — as he has
done for several centuries — & 
the tree become whole again. Yes,
he knows trees reach up to the
sky, but they should have a base
to support them, not be silhou-

etted against the rules of nature.
Now his hands hold a ball of
thread to tether it to the ground
if he can get his magic metal sty-
lus to draw it closer. He has to
hurry, for the candle burns away.

#538 La Magie Noire (1946)

Antarctic winter imitated. I am
living inside a refrigerator
set up in a cold store. Beside me
there is a bird that would
escape if it could. It is my first
Assumption; & I am trying
to keep it by keeping it
as close to suspended animation
as I can. The bird is unhappy.
It is a summer bird. When
I first felt it fluttering
a few ingested pellets of dry ice
were enough to quieten it.
But as it grew
I was forced to move lodgings,
was forced to move
my chilling mode from
solid boulder blocks to
gaseous intake. Now when I exhale
my frozen breath is fuel
that drives rockets to the
moon. It does not wake the bird
but something inside it
awakens. I sense its struggles
as it recognizes flight, is
driven mad by its proximity.