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  ARTICULATION OF SOLACE FOR W   We are mothering ourselves We are articulating solace for each other We are trying   to not fall in love Write love poems   to not fall in love   The faultline between the language of feeling and the language of catastrophe? We find it Our common language Our white world We are trying   to write close to it Even closer Closeness   changes Every poem was once impossible   Medieval torture devices Phalansteries That’s when it mattered That’s when you wrote it   Your father’s car speeds up the mountain like an unsent letter and you see someone dead   in your dream when he is still alive outside it, watching Kurosawa for you Aliveness   changes The kind   of violence that can be taken back The room   where someone not deadly realized they could care for you and didn’t Or did Now you imagine it emptied The kitchen   without a sink, windswept, glazed emerald-gold   You could picture solace only by bright walls, you said By, not in A nearness   We were listening to Arca together   We were dreaming about an apartment in the Mesozoic A meadow on Neptune   Thinking This relationship Between the cold pomegranates on the table and the porcelain bowl that couldn’t break apart one morning Solace I   wanted islands instead of worlds I wanted a new kind of ice One to hold on to, lying in bed at noon Bitter citrus grafting   like lightning onto my neck so I could be orchards as well As well   as seeds   of thunderstorms   What’s the point of time if we’re never out of it, knocking at your door, in landfall, in someone else’s house   I wanted we, in the second person I wanted unimaginable solace, in the second person   I wanted terrifying friends   to love me You,   carrying away gorgeous bags of treasure every time we meet Deadlight Clearly we were not who we were Clearly we were not dead We were not   mistaken I wanted to look exactly like you   (after Jenny Hval)   *   HERZZEIT   I