Heliopause. Heather Christle

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      Disintegration Loop 1.1

      ▪ 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

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