Alex Galper

Up to the Heavens

Outside, on a different planet
Arctic winds chill
to the bone
and winter bites.
But here :
in a Palestinian hole
on E2nd
it is hot: carpets, pillows, hummus,
  a plate of kebabs.
My friend
commands respect here
for his fluent Arabic.
A former Mossad,
he pulls on his apple hooka
at the waiter and
whispers into my ear:
"...How many o'our boys they's
how many o'theirs
I'd packed up
into the heavens!"

Alex Galper © 2008
translated from Russian by
Misha Delibash © 2008

Brooklyn Siberia


I live in Siberia
In the very heart of Southern Brooklyn
In the mornings people are flocking to the taiga of Wall Street
Returning in the evening barely alive, frozen,
Bleeding from computer-bug wounds
Some disappear forever
Mauled to death by the 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.

Alex Galper © 2008
translated by Mike Magazinnik and Igor Satanovskiy © 2008