Heliopause. Heather Christle

for William Basinski

      In seeking to resolve a conflict

      between two parties

      one can assume

      each believes it is acting

      in good faith

      just as the hopeful

      gravel waits for your rough step

      ▴

      The only way to be truly alone

      is for there to be nothing

      not even myself

      ▴

      In looping you rephrase after listening

      to what the person has to say

      what the person had to say

      and having the new words affirmed

      you wait and listen again

      ▴

      Myself the eager magnet

      for another to address

      ▴

      Maybe I should think this a spiral

      a loop that gets closer

      a loop that will not close

      ▴

      To make nothing

      draw a circle

      around what isn’t there

      ▴

      I found a note I left in the corner

      of a part of the poem we rarely used

       If you ever feel trapped

      it said

       this is where to escape

      ▴

      But legally I owe you nothing

      I owe you at least that much

      ▴

      Like being haunted by the spirit of the letter

      ▴

      I remember my teacher’s story

      of two teenagers who died in a blizzard

      trying to stay warm

      and the tailpipe

      blocked with snow

      so I always check

      but it still happens

      just yesterday

      a man’s young son in what the paper

      called one awful story

      ▴

      The light switch has a beautiful feeling

      when a person reaches out to make it change

      and the warm quadrangles of sun

      on the carpet are beautiful too

      and red berries on the gray bush

      and the mail as long as it lasts

      and beauty is what beauty does to you

      ▴

      Like trying to say a seagull

      inscribing a circle

      over what land

      the day has thought

      to provide

      ▴

      to enter into agreement with yourself

      to lie but only out of love

      for the verblessness of buildings

      They do not rise except once

      and then nothing

      how being is nothing

      and if there were a word after

      it would be a slow decay

      ▴

      I will love across any distance

      you think this has made to occur

      ▴

      Nothing so ruthless as a life

      ▴

      The day hangs low overhead

      and soon enough the new grass will emerge

      through the gravel

      They have big plans to meet

      in the middle

      and in so doing

      to phase all this out

      ▴

      I go on

      say enough and it will blur

      off into sound

      look up and see that night

      has nearly settled in and darkness

      and hope that if I look into it

      long enough and keep my mouth

      quiet

      when I look down again I’ll find

      a settled word

      to which nothing

      is attached

      ▴

      Re: the day

      someone said

       what doesn’t kill you makes it longer

      ▴

      It’s like footsteps toward you

      that sound for all the world like

      they forever move away

      ▴

      I keep forgetting I’m the smoke

      not the camera

      Then I see my dark

      joining sky to what’s below

      ▴

      Like watching someone

      from across a river

      on such a clear day

      that you can see her teeth

      and at such

      a distance

      that you can’t hear the sound

      so while you know

      it must be screaming

      it is possible

      to imagine her faraway mouth

      which you can see but not save

      has opened—is open—to sing

      ▴

      After the collapse and before

      the dust settles

      the darkness billows

      and grows

      like it’s describing

      itself to the sky

      this it says

       this and much bigger

      but the sky

      in its sorrow

      has had to turn away

      ▴

      to expect praise for the beautiful apology

      ▴

      to imagine something other than again

      ▴