Brooklyn Siberia

What Abraham Grigorievich Did in the Last 10 years

I won`t (nevermore)!








Silicon breasts with bullet-proof lining

To walk through dangerous neighborhoods,

Titanium lungs to smoke

Three packs a day,

An ever-hard rubber dick

To fuck ugly superiors

And climb the corporate ladder

Artificial liver to drink like a fish,

Jet-propelled roller blades for people from Asia

To roll away from American cluster bombs,

Anatomically correct inflatable dolls

With television screens for faces

Broadcasting never-ending Super-bowl-

For single men,

Blow-dryers that work like vibrators-

For single women,

Foam-rubber nightingales and phosphoricstars-

For romantic outings under the moon.




Brooklyn Siberia


I live in Siberia

In the very heart of Southern Brooklyn

In the morning people are flocking to taiga of Wall Street

Returning in the evening barely alive frozen stock-bitten

Bleeding from computer-bug wounds

Some disappear forever

Mauled to death by bears of big corporations

Or buying houses in New Jersey

In the spring I see their corpses

Inviting me to follow the same path

From the pages of respectable publications




What Abraham Grigorievich Did in the Last 10 years


Fell into the garbage pit by the train station; bought two

left shoes at the flea market; married a much older broad;

triumphed over yard man Makar in match of domino;

got 10 days in prison for stalking some woman while drunk;

received invitation from Israeli aunt; decided to become a

traitor and leave; couldn`t escape, was forced into a mental institution;

got out and left the country; hello America; couldn`t stop cursing;

abused his wife; admired vodka & local appetizers; washed clients

in a funeral home; smoked grass, sold magical herbs ensuring eternal

life & youth; divorced; went to hookers, drove a cab; bought a house;

married a young chick; got himself new porcelain teeth 7 a poodle

named Prokhor; spent his vacation in Hawaii; once walked out to mow

his lawn-and that was it.




I won`t (nevermore)!


Dear mother!

I won`t love crazy women

Running across the ceiling


I won`t turn into a crocodile

And eat little screaming kids


I swear on my extraxcted tooth

That I will become a catchy banner

By the pharmacy entrance

To advertise

Headache medicine.






I am the last true anarchist

Show me your president and I

Will kill him without firing a shoot

By seducing his wife.

I will destroy this symbol of oppression

By shoving my dick down his daughter`s throat

Down with all the world governments

Down with the stupid mail,

Down with pension-the dreary citizen`s toy,

Down with the army aimlessly rattling its sabers

I agree to pay taxes only

To maintain whorehouses free of charge.






I am eating a delicious borsht to protest wolfish capitalism,

I enjoy the fattest solyanka to fight dominance of big corporations,

I torture myself with Cutlets A La Kiev in the memory of victims

Of the communist Gulag,

Devour oven-baked hens with parsley for the bombed-out Afghanistan,

French-fries to stop the war in Irak,

A whole roasted piglet on a skewer to prevent Palestinian kamikazes

From bombing Israeli discos.

Withdraw you armies from Chechnya, or I will finish this apple strudel,

Allow gays to be married, or I will order a cappuchino with cream.




Poems by Alex Galper from “Fish de jour,  Koja Press 2003 translated from Russian by Igor Satanovsky & Mike Magazinnik


@ Alex Galper All right reserved

Courtesy Igor Satanovsky & Magazinnik




respiro@2000-2004 All rights reserved