Alexander Hammond Benedict
$5
Ich habe Tote, und ich ließ sie hin
und war erstaunt, sie so getrost zu sehn,
so rasch zuhaus im Totsein, so gerecht,
so anders als ihr Ruf. Nur du, du kehrst
zurück; du streifst mich, du gehst um, du willst
an etwas stoßen, daß es klingt von dir
und dich verrӓt. O nimm mir nicht, was ich
langsam erlern. Ich habe recht; du irrst
wenn du gerührt zu irgendeinem Ding
ein Heimweh hast. Wir wandeln dieses um;
aus unserm Sein, sobald wir es erkennen.
I carry the dead, and I let them go
and was surprised to see them so confident,
so soon at home in death, so satisfied,
so unlike their reputation. Only you, you turn
back; you brush me, you skirt by, you want
to bump against something, so that it sounds of yourself
and betrays you. Oh, don’t take from me what I
am slowly learning. I am sure; you wander
when you are moved toward any one thing
out of homesickness. We transform this;
from within our being as soon as we recognize it.
published in Ottawa by above/ground press
October 2024
a/g subscribers receive a complimentary copy
Raised in the Cuyahoga Valley, alex nested in the Cleveland area and cleans ink off the massive cylinders of offset printers for a living. He runs betweenthehighway press (betweenthehighway.org) and is currently writing a biography on d.a. levy.
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