The conquistadors brandished foul
Scorns.
And their silvery breastplates threatened the
Underbrush.
Alexander, gold-haired and furious, marched
Ahead,
Marred, alone. Beyond Phillips’ ability or Aristotle’s
Adjuration.
You, my modern Pharisee, you cajole and you
Take.
Under the guise of help you topple good will and make for yourself an ill-conquered following, you
Snake.
