and a keeper of Hell
I am the refurbisher of Hell
and its first and last most
colorful servant,
enemy of all that lies above.
I watch the accumulation
of plans that lead to nothing,
and I laugh. Here in the depths
things take longer to move,
and they stick, while the way
of the surface is ephemeral.
The beauty of Hell starts
with space: it turns out
that Heaven collects the multitudes,
while Hell has few takers.
These red depths are for
architects whose designs
are unwelcome in the thin air
of a febrile empire.
Our fire is deep, but our roads
are cool and clear.
There is no alcohol in Hell,
only grave tasks.
Pedantry is annihilated.
Inversion must bloom or die.
The new country is here in the dark
and my dick is in it.
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