Dada Poem by Richard Weissman

Into the shape of the carriageless horse whose intestines drool towards ascension within blood-sucking vessels of elitism and without its barren back which eliminates in fecal toned majesties the dove, a fish with head, now its body revealed - lay bare its internal structure redeemed in fossil of decompositions,
then decay into pictures painting
Dada
And now beyond to an impossible entrail of woman in beauty, of paraphrased illusion of flightless scales emitting stale fragrance of rotting decomposures, painting the sky in impossible smokestacked questioning as it reveals a piano wired twisting, now tightening round the neck, the eye punched shapeless 'til bottles of boilermaking elephant necktie (Colombian)turn shapeless idioms
Cowheaded bleat utterance and questioning with tusks shaping the abscessed pain of feet worn russellings and respite with a headless mount.
Now into
Dreamtime alleyways garnished flies, vermin yes on the canvas with death angel twisting whispers, opening doors to dream-like illusion and from such dreams confirming rings -
Lead with child in hand onto rooftop to
void with blooded shapenings for there's the
sword as she's freshly torn white streams crimson
Hacked to pieces

Whilst I, her husband with child in hand make for unreachable door, She fast approaching Hell's motion,
Her blooded hysteria can ne'er be quenched though somewhere the raven is painted, somewhere above white City muted in flames, beyond horizon to question beyond canvas as I twist doorknob and though unhinged, my door shall not open, I remain forever locked mid that grasping moment, never escaping from nightingale in death, Questioning the dream, encapsulated on Dada,
the canvas
Eternal.

-Excerpted from "Silent Echo" (1994)