Tristan Tzara

(1896 - 1963 / Moineşti / Romania)

The Great Lament Of My Obscurity Three - Poem by Tristan Tzara

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 shuffle through the colour of the world
which looks bluer than the subway and astronomy
we are too thin
we have no mouth
our legs are stiff and knock together
our faces are formeless like the stars
crystal points without strength burned basilica
mad : the zigzags crack
telephone
bite the rigging liquefy
the arc
climb
astral
memory
towards the north through its double fruit
like raw flesh
hunger fire blood


Comments about The Great Lament Of My Obscurity Three by Tristan Tzara

  • Susan Williams (11/4/2015 2:03:00 PM)


    Bad drugs, dude, will do it to you every time. I hate to admit it but this poem is growing on me. (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: son, memory, strength, fire, together, world, flower, star



Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 1, 2004



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