By Uljana Wolf

Translated by Greg Nissan

from Issue 24
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ach had i never been in the recovery room
numb beached teetering in that white

boat tethered next to other boats—ok
that’s the last harbor that’s the clammy

sleepcanal with black nurses who line
the shore as tribunal and threaten you

with stricter fingerspritzes: drip and
devil can you hear me dear—and hear

you cannot only silence in the sluices
sanitary purgatorrents nourishing you

dropwise from a tube—when under
your bed the sea’s swift beats seize

you back into the dream of star and
and gag far from the recovery room


Uljana Wolf is a poet and translator whose oeuvre, multilingual and sonically acrobatic, finds its spark in the transgression of borders, linguistic, national, or otherwise. Her most recent work, SONNE FROM ORT (2014), is a collaborative erasure with Christian Hawkey.

Greg Nissan graduated from Brown University last May with degrees in comparative literature and German studies. He is currently on a Fulbright scholarship in Berlin, where he is working on a documentary poetry project centered on the development of language in multicultural environments.

Original text: Uljana Wolf, “kreisau, nebelvoliere”, “aufwachraum I,” “aufwachraum II”, “auf einen alten tournister” from kochanie ich habe brot gekauft. Idstein: kookbooks, 2005.

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