Poetry: Selections from Grzegorz Wróblewski


The man I saw at dusk
on the Sound had a repellent color.
He claimed it was this way
he highlights his toxicity.
He knew all poems by Bob Kaufman.
The stars lit up ours earthly hiding place,
and he folded his wings vertically
over the body.
It seemed to him
that he is a cabin boy
on the ship Henry Gibbins.


There was nothing unusual about it.
Children were playing in the square,
and alcoholics slowly sipped on the benches
cherry vodka from Lidl.
Then the sun suddenly changed color.
The policeman fired quickly,
what a bullet
hit a nearby tree.
And the world suddenly stopped existing.


The Earth is the brain.
Sick, crazy brain...
I don't give a damn about worms.
I listen to Miles Davis
and I pretend that I am
But the TUTU album is quickly released
And they're burying me again
in the hole.

Grzegorz Wróblewski was born in 1962 in Gdańsk and grew up in Warsaw. Since 1985 he has been living in Copenhagen. English translations of his work are available in Our Flying Objects (trans. Joel Leonard Katz, Rod Mengham, Malcolm Sinclair, Adam Zdrodowski, Equipage, 2007), A Marzipan Factory (trans. Adam Zdrodowski, Otoliths, 2010), Kopenhaga (trans. Piotr Gwiazda, Zephyr Press, 2013), Let's Go Back to the Mainland (trans. Agnieszka Pokojska, Červená Barva Press, 2014), Zero Visibility (trans. Piotr Gwiazda, Phoneme Media, 2017), Dear Beloved Humans (trans. Piotr Gwiazda, Lavender/Dialogos Books, 2023) Asemic writing book Shanty Town (Post-Asemic Press, 2022).


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