on your hands you wander

"Merz Number 1, Anna Blume" by Kurt Schwitters

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   Love this poem because it practically plays itself right off the page: da-dum, da-dum, dum-dum-dum, dum-dum-dum da Dum. Like Ringo Starr's drum fill at the end of "Rain." Also, "On your hands you wander" is a helluva line.

   The previous paragraph details how, in addition to writing, Schwitters would glue together collages of bus stubs and buttons, inner tubes and bits of string across his walls.