Otherworld

[title type="subtitle-h6"]Sean Avery[/title][vc_row][vc_column width="11/12"][vc_column_text]From my roofed box of a homeon the outskirts of metropolis,Phoenix is a novel attraction,the interstate, a concrete tonguelaid wide & leading downtownwhere people work & live & diewhile checking their ticketfor the dream lottery.[spacer height="30"]I am suburban outsider, mimickingcity dweller slang, copying swag,my speech more dictionary than folk,my clothes more plain than palette.[spacer height="30"]When thinking about my first tripto the city named after myth,I remember sitting in a backseat,watching behind curved glassthe golden disk of the Sunsetting in waxy blue heavens,clusters of sharp skyscrapersasking, “are we not man’s zenith—”obelisk shadows shadingbrick buildings & automobiles.[spacer height="30"]I was dreaming sidewalksfull of ghosts, at sunset,streets & alleys were trenchescarving paths to crypts,

“ain’t no love in the heart of the city”

upper & lower class passingtombstones beneath billboardspointing towards Charon’s cargo ship.[spacer height="30"]All I knew of city life was:gunshot, siren, rap song, car horn,plane engine, late breaking news.I saw the interchangeas possible routes to otherworld,how could I have known morethan industry & poverty, morethan metalwork magnum opus,maybe the fire Prometheus stolewas not intended for us,maybe we should not have builtlight rails between rich & poor,one side all chain-link fences& no chance of retirement,the other, 3-car garages& last minute vacations,understanding betweenboth sides, dimming slowlike archaic streetlights.[spacer height="30"]From my roofed box of a homeon the outskirts of metropolis,I’m not sure if it’s my placeto imagine those livingin the city of resurrection,or if I can commenton the human condition,inside the greatest human invention,civilization.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]