Gustav Klimt The Three Ages of Woman painting

Gustav Klimt The Three Ages of Woman paintingGustav Klimt The Kiss (Le Baiser _ Il Baccio) paintingGustav Klimt Sea Serpents painting
city becomes vague, amorphous. It is becoming impossible to describe the world. Pilgrimage, prophet, adversary merge, fade into mists, emerge. As does she: Allie, Al--Lat. _She is the exalted bird. Greatly to be desired_. He remembers now: she told him, long ago, about Jumpy's poetry. _He's trying to make a collection. A book_. The thumb--sucking artist with his infernal views. A book is a product of a pact with the Devil that inverts the Faustian contract, he'd told Allie. Dr. Faustus sacrificed eternity in return for two dozen years of power; the writer agrees to the gains (but only if he's lucky) maybe not eternity, but posterity, at least. Either way (this was Jumpy's point) it's the Devil who wins.
What does a poet write? Verses. What jingle-jangles in Gibreel's brain? Verses. What broke his heart? Verses and again verses.
The trumpet, Azraeel, calls out from a greatcoat pocket: _Pick me up! Yesyesyes: the Trump. To hell with it all, the whole sorry mess