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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=531621" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Great Lament Of My Obscurity Three</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=531621" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">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 <br>my son<br>my son<br>let us always shuffle through the colour of the world<br>which looks bluer than the subway and astronomy<br>we are too thin<br>we have no mouth<br>our legs are stiff and knock together<br>our faces are formeless like the stars<br>crystal points without strength burned basilica<br>mad : the zigzags crack<br>telephone<br>bite the rigging liquefy<br>the arc<br>climb<br>astral<br>memory<br>towards the north through its double fruit<br>like raw flesh<br>hunger fire blood</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Tristan+Tzara">Tristan Tzara</a></strong></div>

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