30 days of poems, day eleven

a heart by Ian Dreiblatt

“dug they as fast as”

the city destroyed in a starfall of multiplicities.
we speak without lips. we count spheres of

pale blue light that float up over the ruins. number
sufficient fix indecipherable afterbirth. cubes

invert and all that is solid. boil absence and see
if it melts. let’s dig into the ground a mold of

everything we remember since it was never here
anyway, found abyss, each thing speaking

in the voice of another. and then the tape flakes.
memory’s surfaces craze. we reach our arms

into an indescribably blank space that seems
to go on forever. the city was what lived and so

we’d built a tower to dream we had bodies there.
now we aggregate in the combinatorial negation

where a park used to be. inchoate usses float
down the index. a mouth we can share. our

chances suffuse a surging amalgam light as
iridescent grammars cycle down to a unison.

Ian Dreiblatt is a poet, translator, musician, and legal commentator. His translation of Gogol’s The Nose is forthcoming this year from Melville House Publishing, and his translations of the prison letters of Pussy Riot’s Nadezhda Tolokonnikova are forthcoming in Comradely Greetings from Verso Books. His poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in The Agriculture Reader, Pallaksch. Pallaksch., Web Conjunctions, and elsewhere. You can listen to his electronic music at ingurgitem.bandcamp.com.