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 © 20