Infernos
Infernos as Virgil knew hurtle us against our will into the deep end of the too far away where we do not belong and should not be. Time betrays us. Safety abandons us. and hope forgets our name. Houses with their welcoming light and songs of rattling dishes mumbling televisions and tumbling towels turn as silent as a sinking ship’s telegraph key. Closets where cargo pants and cocktail dresses lived side by side above a battalion of stilettos and sneakers are decimated, as sculpted roses chirpy bird feeders and Little Tykes cars turn into black ash shadows like 40,000 acres of family album ancestors who smile and pose with Coney Island rascality as they perish like the ignited ghost images of nitrate film. In the end long before this hell can been contained, we are left a congregation of despair; too young to die too old to start over on the dark side of the vanquished moon where for now all we can do is gather in this lif...