Friday, January 30, 2015

Andreas Neeser


—for H.

Cawing descent toward the sleeping tree.
The seeds have been reaped, the sun
goes down at six.

announce messages from the sky,

they call and cut up the spirits,

in the half-light,

they sharpen their glances.

A bright vision grasping stony pastures.

And if they should squawk words,
we wouldn’t hear them.

Three Sisters

I float on leg-long logs,

skinned dead wood, not a breath of wind,
yet, portside,

on the stump, a complete stranger’s hair
forgets itself.

Over there, ahead, three peaks,

the mist draws soft contours,

the slate sisters blur up the valley—
aghast, I turn on the open lake.

For years my only brother,

I crawl to the rest area on the shore—
in the sallow light

I am nothing but my darkest word.

"Twilight" and "Three Sisters" were previously published in Grass Grows Inward, translated from the German by Marc Vincenz (Spuyten Duyvil, 2014).

Andreas Neeser is a Swiss poet and author who currently lives 
in Suhr near Aarau. From 2003 to 2011, he ran the Aargauer Literaturhaus in Lenzburg, Switzerland. He has won the Feldkircher Lyrikpreis (2008) and the RAI Bozen Poetry Prize of the Lyrikpreis Meran (2006). He has published numerous novels, short story and poetry collections. His  most recent poetry collection is, Die Sonne ist ein nasser Hund (Wolfbach Verlag, 2006). His novel, Zwischen den Wassern, was recently released (2014) by Haymon Verlag, Innsbruck. 

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