Two Books by Pyotr Patrushev


Now Available 
from Leaf Garden Press
in association with Peganum Books 


In association with Peganum Books, Leaf Garden Press is proud to simultaneously present two books from the same author. From the late Pyotr Patrushev comes two extremely insightful volumes. 

First, The Transcendent Ape, a study of evolution and the human condition.

Second, Buddha's Balalaika, a collection of his humorous satire, essays, reflection on life in Russia, and his poetry all in one place.

For those unfamiliar with Pyotr, I strongly recommend introducing yourself by watching a short documentary series about his swim from the Soviet Union to Turkey in search of his freedom. 

The Man Who Swam From Russia:

And of course, pick up these books and Project Nirvana: How The War On Drugs Was Wona novel published by Leaf Garden Press a few years back.

Learn more about Pyotr Patrushev, his work, and his life at 


Buddha's Balalaika by Pyotr Patrushev

Now Available 
from Leaf Garden Press
in association with Peganum Books 



Buddha's Balalaika
collected humor, essays, glimpses into life in Russia, and poetry 

by
Pyotr Patrushev

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“This collection of writings shows what a brilliant mind Pyotr Patrushev has – quirky, original and deep thinking. I am honored to have had him as my translator and delighted to read here more of his written legacy. This collection offers us a sample of the tremendous breadth of interests that he held. His stories demonstrate his great humanity, his humor, his warm heart and his unique world view. I commend them to you with the friendly warning that you will see the world a little differently after reading them.”

- Helena Cornelius,
Conflict Resolution Network

“Pyotr Patrushev, writer and translator, a man who made a dramatic escape by swimming across part of the Black sea when he was 20, a man who broadcast from the BBC and in Europe critically of the Soviet Union, a man once on a wanted list of the KGB, a man who sees himself as a peace maker and bridge builder between East and West. Pyotr's life-long search for meaning has taken him deeply into classical literature and into challenging, often painful self-analyses. His exploration led him from Christian Bible thorough the Transpersonal psychology schools of West coast USA to Daoism and the I Ching. When initiated by Maharishi Mahesh Yogi in 1968 he was asked whether he wanted peace or knowledge. He replied: "both please"....Pyotr was invited to interpret for high-level conferences between, for example Soviet and American scientists and leaders in alternative medicine and spirituality…We hear a man holding a mirror at the events of his life to see what may be reflected there of the inner journey. Because of his insight I think you may find Pyotr Patrushev a most illuminating story teller as he lets us have a glimpse into his search of meaning.”


- Caroline Jones AO,
Australian radio and television journalist



PYOTR PATRUSHEV worked for the BBC in London and as a science writer in Munich and San Francisco. He published numerous articles in The Sydney Morning Herald and The Australian and worked for the Australian radio and television.

He is the author of 4 books: Project NirvanaSentenced to Death, a memoir about his escape from Russia to Turkey (published in Russia in 2005), The Transcendent Ape, and Buddha's Balalaika (collected writings 1964-2014). Find more about the life and work of Pyotr on the web  at http://pyotr-patrushev.com/

The Transcendent Ape by Pyotr Patrushev

Now Available 
from Leaf Garden Press
in association with Peganum Books 



The Transcendent Ape
An evolutionary journey through religion, mysticism, cults, and other human foibles

by
Pyotr Patrushev

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Download or read online as a PDF for free on

Buy it for $0.99 cents at the 

Buy the print edition for $7.93+s&h at 


* Amazon print prices sometimes vary





"I describe the human predicament in the bigger framework of evolutionary history: that of a mammal and a primate who was subjected to extraordinary selective pressures that led to his survival in the current form, with the potential for genocide and ecocide, as well as for the highest artistic and intellectual achievement."

- Pyotr Patrushev


"This is a Big History of humanity’s inner predicament under the microscope, shining a sharp, personal, often humorous and sympathetic light on the foibles and follies of religion, mysticism and cults as well as on several millennia of constructive ratiocination about the human condition. Were Darwin alive, he could not have suppressed a gentle chuckle."

- Professor Peter King,
University of Sydney


"Pyotr Patrushev, writer and translator, a man who made a dramatic escape [across part of the Black sea] from Siberia when he was 20, a man who broadcast from the BBC and in Europe critically of the Soviet Union, a man once on a wanted list of the KGB, a man who sees himself as a peace maker and bridge builder between East and West. Pyotr's life-long search for meaning has taken him deeply into classical literature and into challenging, often painful self-analyses. His exploration led him from Christian Bible thorough the Transpersonal psychology schools of West coast USA to Daoism and the I Ching. When initiated by Maharishi Mahesh Yogi in 1968 he was asked whether he wanted peace or knowledge. He replied: "both please". And long after leaving the Transcendental Meditation he still cherishes those seemingly contradictory hopes...Pyotr was invited to interpret for high-level conferences between, for example Soviet and American scientists and leaders in alternative medicine and spirituality…We hear a man holding a mirror at the events of his life to see what may be reflected there of the inner journey. Because of his insight I think you may find Pyotr Patrushev a most illuminating story teller as he lets us have a glimpse into his search of meaning."

- Caroline Jones,
Australian radio and television journalist



PYOTR PATRUSHEV worked for the BBC in London and as a science writer in Munich and San Francisco. He published numerous articles in The Sydney Morning Herald and The Australian and worked for the Australian radio and television.

He is the author of 4 books: Project NirvanaSentenced to Death, a memoir about his escape from Russia to Turkey (published in Russia in 2005), The Transcendent Ape, and Buddha's Balalaika (collected writings 1964-2014). Find more about the life and work of Pyotr on the web  at http://pyotr-patrushev.com/

Restless Vanishings by John Michael Flynn

Now Available 



Restless Vanishings

poems by
John Michael Flynn

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Wheels And Blades


As I wheel her about hoping for trust 
her occasional smile 
becomes conversion enough 
to compassion bolder than religion.
When I greet her parents, 
their faces flexing through the strain 
of compromise and exigency,
I hear no claim from them of anything final,
no answer beyond unconditional care, 
having long ago accepted their daughter’s tantrums,
vastness of loss, memories of her fall,
the bleak poems she scrawls by candle light. 

When alone again she shares a rare confession.
Messengers in the stars 
preach love will not conquer ignorance. 
She admits to not always believing those stars.
Later, we watch on television 
silken limbs of ice skaters spinning.
How she laughs until in tears
when my left shoe sticks to gum on the floor.
I expect her to say that now I know how she feels.
There is no such remark, only long silence.
She asks, at last, if I will roll her to bed.
She wants to dream of cutting a figure eight.



Mister Westall’s Good Knife


In his pocket, in his hand
trust a man
who fears a blade
he adores.
A man who fathers
the neighborhood
when others cannot.
With the largest hands
you’ve ever seen
and a laugh that scares you
more than the basement
stairs at night.
Radiant, sanguine
smiling man who fills
the puny galaxies
of your boyhood ambition.

We returned
from a fishing trip
in Gloucester
with a trash barrel
full of haddock and cod.
I climbed into his truck
tried to pull it out.
His sea-filled eyes gleamed.
He lifted that barrel
as if it was empty.
Let me drag it with him
to a backyard table.
Let me help. Me
of all people
cleaning fish, dodging
flies in the sun

worthy of his good knife.



JOHN MICHAEL FLYNN taught for one year, 2015, as an English Language Fellow for the U.S. State Department at the Far Eastern State University in Khabarovsk, Russia. His poetry collections include Keepers Meet Questing Eyes, and Moments Between Cities. In 1998 he earned the Erika Mumford Prize from the New England Poetry Club. A resident of Virginia, find him on the web at www.basilrosa.com.

Ironclad Beta For The Coming PPV by CEE

Now Available 



Ironclad Beta For The Coming PPV

poems by
CEE


FULL COLOR EDITION:

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BLACK AND WHITE EDITION:

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* Sales from the CreateSpace eStore bring slightly more funds to LGP, which helps with operation costs.

** Amazon print prices sometimes vary, often in the buyer's favor.

Ironclad Beta for the Coming PPV was initially published as an eBook with a now defunct publisher.
Due to rights conflicts, LGP cannot release any eBook editions and there are no free or name your price options available. Sorry.



American ingenuity, provides a ROYGBIV, the entire bell-space of probability. End result? Utter stasis.  Beating hearts, yearning souls, anxious fight fans, angry citizens, don’t like that at all.

CEE’s latest, Ironclad Beta For The Coming PPV, gives us The Battle Royale of our first Civil War, Monitor vs. Merrimac, iconography from a twain nation, as test run.  Mock-up.  First take and first rehearsal.  What happens when differing equals, unbridled, meet.

The dark and terrible visage of Today’s Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean, portends horrors, but beyond her eyes, 29 representations of vintage postcards—most, The Battle of Hampton Roads, once heralded as “the historical event most often depicted.”  These and others, each set against the punching verse of CEE, provide perspective to the Pay-Per-View of our gathering storm.  Visual antiquity, giving each in turn a thousand words, before the poet, counterpointing, provides his.  Utilizing the most famous stalemate in American history, our object lesson, is “equality”--its elasticity, its puzzle and riddle.  Dealt with, via post-Gilded Age imagery and post-80’s cynicism.  Heraldry, deeply personal, thrown as carnival barker’s opinion…and as future choice.

Unwinnable slaughter, no matter demo, proto, Crash Test Armies, beckons, Three-Card Monte.  Ironclad Beta For The Coming PPV, is a chalk talk of our Past, demonstrating the best-case scenario for the Cold War of Two Americas: an inept, drunken bar fight between 1862 Battlebots.  Colorful, existential, beautiful, snarky, Edwardian and Milleresque.  High drama. A tribute to Fight Night. A cautionary tale.  Jeer and dare.  Poet Knows Best.

In the final throwdown, at the last bell, what stays disaster, is but personal, human restraint. As ever, the poet holds little hope for Man, but presents his analysis, his suggestions, in Ironclad Beta For The Coming PPV, a Special Feature (with Easter eggs!), for our very last Main Event.

“Hey, CEE…are you part of the solution, or part of the problem?”

“I’m part of the problem…but, at least I’ll tell you what The Solution, is.”
—CEE, from “The Language of Imagination”, 2011, Luver.com





Civil war window (Godzilla, 3/8/1862)

The Merrimac blew the mightiest men o’ war
To tatters, at Hampton Roads
A few hours later,
The Cabinet Room is in flip-out mode
It’s Armageddon, End of Day, End of the World
It’s War of the Worlds, and the Confederates
Own a Martian fighting machine
That could make the Union disappear
In a lot of lights
Richard Burton narrating
As “Forever Autumn” blats sadly,
The Merrimac rearing up all Toho,
“REEEE-eeAHHII-EeeaaAAH…!!”
Top American sober politicos, all ready go peepee
Disgusting, annoying
Me no get
But, then again,
When I got up on 9/11 and played my messages,
I snorted, erased them, and went back to sleep





‘1’, is the most violent number that you ever are

When comparison gives way to contrast,
Screw what you’ve been fed
That’s when the grapeshot
That’s when Norman Vincent Peale, takes a piss break
And Star Wars and Star Trek fans
Are WWE, faces
“Tastes great!, Less filling!”, an elbow joke to teach
Potatoes or stuffing, an area where a person’s
Very existence is threatened
That’s the Unfriend, nonfriend, in social tickle of faces,
“Who ARE You?!” Other asks Other as anOther
“Asks” being PC for “throwing down, Harley dude”
Diversity, has an Emotional Seating Capacity of  
One (1)
Two (2) 
gods, is intolerable
anOther, from motherboards, is an “opponent”
If It isn’t,
Why isn’t It You?



CEE is an unstable element, which cannot exist outside the laboratory. CEE is human memoir, in the form of manifestos. CEE is a sociopath, who wishes you could love.  CEE is a figment of what you don't know you don't know. He used to be a dream of the dolphin, but the dolphin decided it didn’t like him.

The Lost Religion of Men by CEE

Now Available 



The Lost Religion of Men

poems by
CEE


FULL COLOR EDITION:

Buy the print edition for $12.98+s&h at

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BLACK AND WHITE EDITION:

Buy the print edition for $5.38+s&h at

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* Sales from the CreateSpace eStore bring slightly more funds to LGP, which helps with operation costs.

** Amazon print prices sometimes vary, often in the buyer's favor.

The Lost Religion of Men was initially published as an eBook with a now defunct publisher. Due to rights conflicts, LGP cannot release any eBook editions and there are no free or name your price options available. Sorry.



Y2K, didn’t, to our knowledge, destroy the world. But for the demise of the VHS format, neither did the 21st Century shepherd in a New Age, on cue. Media, the merchants and power brokers told us so, but if one paid attention, 2000 was 1999 misspelled.

Likewise, the blitz of a “changed”, “renewed”, “happenin’” America of Peter Max, was never born free, New Year’s morn, 1970. Midwifed, but never birthed. Commercial television screaming even its colors, merely said so. LOUD. REPEATED. B.F. Skinner, for a divided nation. Media, power, persuasion, ‘said’. And, Cold War Americans eased down a road chosen for, not by We The People.

CEE, enigmatic street poet, in The Lost Religion of Men (All Bob is Clemente), gives us exposition of rude, personal experience: an 8-year old, falling asleep in the land of alpha and home of the nuclear family, awakened bagpipe, into “change” as a Jedi mind trick. “Things Are Different.” The strength testers and arms of might, have gone. No protest. No debate. It’s already happened, Joe Pyne. You fell asleep, and these former things passed away.

The Lost Religion of Men, sports dreamy and dividing ca. 1969 period pieces, shot through perspectives on a vintage Golden Arm arcade machine. Unwilling to view culture shaped as anything but conceded mores, CEE gives us The Ways and Manner of Old as a forced hand, mighty men outside the Self Help section, brutal dispassion. Soviet terror, as daily accepted. Joe Frazier as one-man buzzsaw, nodded at with pride. Vengeful woman as machine-girl released. At turns, angry fists beat as enemy a world of no choice as child-sensitive imagery speaks four-color, of Valhalla denied. In The Lost Religion of Men, Guardsmen sight students along the barrel as Unitas fades back, slomo, to trumpets unheard. From his hermitage, the poet tells us for the millionth time, to think for ourselves. To reject human mechanization, even as suggested. That “individual”, the known, pioneer ideal, is up to each. No other.

Mickey Mantle as legend, doesn’t roll up like a poster. Hardhat culture doesn’t wither before hair and daisies, because someone clapped hands. Fonts frivolous and social marketing games, are tools. Behaviorism has power, only if human persons permit.

“It’s over; now, we’re Here.”

No, we aren’t. We’re as Establishment as we wanna be.




“Alpha”
(Gamma-alpha-mu-alpha sigma-alpha-sigma)

And, I blow the tight-jawed SOB
Into the street, dead
No, I’m a crazy asshole
Default: COP
And, I brain the humanimal
With a semi-pro bat, keep swinging
No, I’m a psycho
COP
I kick his ass in the parking lot
Of a gangland watering hole
But don’t stop at first blood, bowed head
No mumble-sorry, crummy Eastwood
No, I’m a dangerous thing
COP (at least one, lazy, raising questions)
There isn’t any Defeating The Myth
Of evo-psych lie creature
You can’t rend him from his bestseller
“I read to be a man, I larn it from a booook”
You just have to be silent
Allow fake WBA belt to grace
Fake champ’s whatheis
Figuring, hoping
He’s one of ‘em who goes to a supermax
Rape-rape, rape-itty raperape,
Because he killed his Her, anyway
Or he’s one looking wise and hormone
Her, too, and proud
About all the erections that are really
Dishwashing




Give Me Mantle, Standing One-legged

The Metropolitans
That’s their actual name
20th Century expansionism
Trying to be Abner Doubleday
Nodding, Father Time, at kids’ kids’ kids’ kids
The N.Y. Metropolitans
Very Mudville, that name
“Casey” ‘tache, dark wooden hanger
Gilded Age slang and flat cap
Strong, the way Choynski was strong
Charlie Mitchell and John L., Peter Jackson
Patina’d hard, still frightening through Taft
Respected as strolling greatness, Depression
Deathbed, must wheezes, Korean Conflict
And, it is The Space Age
And clowns have eyes rolling Vegas
Until a miracle no one saw coming,
Like the pipeline of farm system
Giving out, dark miracle, on the Yankees
And tradition, legacy, antiquity
Became just that, and The Pyramids
Rented lesser and aging, harmed might
Stand field, Round Table after Punic Wars
Lancelot’s eye is not dimmed
He sees it
He gets it
New World, fun for horns blaring
As in, OH! New World! Open the wrapper!
Antiquity, though, knows
New worlds are Technicolor whitewash
You can call ‘em Amazin’
You can call ‘em Ray
If Mickey Mantle was immortal
There’d be no argument




CEE (American poet) (b. 29 October, 1961 Peoria, IL; d. 2 November, 2000 Time Travel Institute, Little Rock, AR) [citation needed]

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--bio as provided by the author to Leaf Garden Press,
5/25/2016, the 33rd Anniversary of Return of the Jedi.

Saints in Limbo by Kyle Hemmings

Now Available 



Saints in Limbo

poems by
Kyle Hemmings

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** Amazon print prices sometimes vary, often in the buyer's favor.





Saint Amnesia



He discovered the cure for universal cancer but mislaid his formulas. A preposterous poker-faced girlfriend said she wanted to have his baby & he replaced her with a cracked mirror. He predicted the world would end three minutes after it did. His theory of time: We're older than we think. What's called living is really the act of remembering ourselves in slow motion. I'm merely stuck on STOP. At the age of eight, his mother gave him a red rubber ball that bounced once & never came down. She said God works in mysterious ways. The ball returned years later in the form of a meteorite that nearly killed him. He went blank, walked away with an alter-ego, bits of rock lodged between its teeth. The traumas of his early years formed lapses in his lovemaking. He woke up lonely not recognizing himself in reflections. Dogs stole his shoelaces. He saved an archbishop from a dangerous fall by using his body as a canopy of impersonal bones & tissues. After the bishop thanked him, promised him a seat in heaven, they became each other. The world was a globe of interchangeable parts that never quite added up. He tried reassembling his life from 16 track tapes & hit replay. He lost track of the time. The tapes looped endlessly & erased him.



KYLE HEMMINGS  lives and works in New Jersey. He has been published in Elimae, Smokelong Quarterly, Blaze Vox, Matchbook, and elsewhere. He loves 50s Sci-Fi movies, manga comics, and pre-punk garage bands of the 60s. His latest collection of poems and prose is Future Wars published by Another New Calligraphy.