Tristan Tzara
the fibres give in to your starry warmth A lamp is called green and sees Carefully stepping into a season of fever The wind has swept the rivers’ magic And i’ve perforated the nerve
Art is going to sleep for a new world to be born “ART”-parrot word-replaced by DADA, PLESIOSAURUS, or handkerchief The talent THAT CAN BE LEARNED makes the Poet a druggist TODAY the criticism Of
where we live the flowers of the clocks catch fire and the plumes encircle the brightness in the distant sulphur morning the cows lick the salt lilies My son My son Let us always
Take a newspaper. Take some scissors. Choose from this paper an article the length you want to make your poem. Cut out the article. Next carefully cut out each of the words that make
two smiles meet towards The child-wheel of my zeal The bloody baggage of creatures Made flesh in physical legends-lives The nimble stags storms cloud over Rain falls under the scissors of The dark hairdresser-furiously