ALEKSEY DAYEN
ALEKSEY DAYEN, - a Russian prose writer, a poet, a publicist, a translator, an artist. Was born (1972) and has grown in Kiev, veins in Moscow, since 1994 year - in New York. His works have been published in periodicals in Russia, USA, Ukraine and other countries. Accepts active participation in a literary life of the USA; performs in clubs, universities and libraries. Aleksey works as an editor-in-chief of the literary periodical " Member's Magazine ". Dayen - is the author of two books of poetry - "Bestiary" (1993, Moscow, Russia), " City Vertical. Verses: 1994-2002 " (2003, New York, USA) and books of prose " City Vertical " (2003, Novokuznetsk, Russia).
FIRST MARRIAGE
I was down to zero
again
shivering and trembling
inside and out.
Took out from the drawer
the wedding band -
symbol of my first marriage.
Sold it to a Puerto Rican jeweler
for 50 bucks.
With that money,
I went to a grocer
and bought
bread and butter,
meat and cheese,
and four packs of cigs.
Stopped by a liquor store
bought 1.75 liters
of some Southern bourbon.
Went home
down to the zero again.
Emptied what was
left of my marriage
on the table.
Not much -
I said to myself -
but good
enough for me
I poured a drink
and went out
on the fire escape
to watch the children play
in the middle
of West 106 Street -
Duke Ellington Boulevard.
--------
CORPORATE AMERICA. UNFUCKED
they call it "to be polite"
"be Polite and Smile"
do the small talk
all that you can find in hardbound
tell aged anecdotes and
don't go outside with a black eye
show concern about your health
show concern suspect everyone
just the other day
I lit a cigarette as I
exited the liquor store
carrying a plastic bag
with a pint of Jack
girl in her mid-twenties
came up to me and said
- because you smoke
you gonna have cancer and
soon you will die
I looked down at her
5'1'' white ugly bitch
hair dyed blonde
bitten fingernails and
unshaved legs
I replied
- your problem is that
you haven't been fucked for
a long time
do yourself and
everybody a favor: fuck someone
she stood there
scratching her
elbow as I
walked
away
here's the problem
with America -
no body fucks
nor makes love
anymore
--------
(THE) RUST
the time is rusting
I'm covered with the same dust
propeller in someone's window
choked on the sand of my memories
I need drums
loud drums
to keep me alive
on a parking lot
which is closed this Sunday
any given Sunday
beat to a bit
fire escapes of the back alley
on the 38th street
rotten in rust
--------
TO RITA BALMINA
it happened in brooklyn on my way to
new york from a friend's house late at night
a tired man in his late 50's in a dusty robe said to me
why the hell did they changed the subway lines services again
they didn't change a thing i said
looks like they are learning an alphabet
by slapping different letters on those trains
assholes he said
i liked his point of view
but it didn't changed a thing
so as my tormented joke
nothing can be change in a city
that sleeps and where
people don't change
just grow old and leave for
florida to die
--------
UNTITLED
Princess in a blue colored dress
On a barstool crossing her legs
She's ordering drinks
But the barkeeper sleeps
Then she smiles and he awakes
She's a Quinn of the hall
Where tango we all
I'm jobless
But she doesn't care
We're summer's barflies
No one's bothering us
This is madness -
I'm the person she loves
--------
PYRAMID ON WALL STREET
On the crossing of Exchange
Place and Broad Street,
I looked up and
spotted
a pyramid
at the top
of a skyscraper,
a pyramid
like the one
on a Mexican postcard.
I was in a hurry
but stopped,
lit a cigarette
and stared at
the clash of cultures--
a foreign symbol
of the past
on top of today's
icon of progress--
a pyramid from
the ancient Yucatan
at the tip
of the center
of the world's
financial center--
Wall Street,
a pyramid--
painted yellow
by sunbeams--
the reason
I was late.
---------
NOR
It is like this:
I'm the one
Who doesn't
Need a God,
Any kind of god.
Not for a prayer
Nor to find an excuse
Nor to bless someone
Nor to damn anyone
Not at all,
Although
I'm not an atheist.
But ...
If a god exists ...
Does he need me?