*Manifesto Blackout* of Dada Manifesto (Tristan Tzara, 1918)



His instincts manipulated the plain amusement of anything,

futile and

bacteriological at least.


We see the mother, a nurse, learned as babies of our day,


noisy, noisy.

boring. stagnant—



A work to torture the atmosphere,

never beautiful,


Each character has Jesus wings.

Expect to put chaos thyself—


I have no right to practice art.




The magic of a word

is of no importance to us

You must fly into a rage and organize prose

that resembles life—

the essence of everybody

a system ardent, naive, transitory

but obsolete.


In art we are human amusement

awaiting nothing moral

invented to gulp affirmation—

suitable chrysalises,

psychoanalytic plot.


*Manifesto cut in half; co-lab-ers blackout 5 lines at a time; passing halves back and forth till both halves are blacked out*

Alyssa Diltz

Shannon St. Hilaire