I wasted eleven and a half weeks
digging fortifications around Bill
the Stratovolcano, but found I still
could not defend his smoothly crafted peaks

from cultural bores pouring down the hills,
hordes ignoring nature in his shadow.
A slowly constructed vertical ode,
Bill is rock’s poem, but miners can drill

more than dirt and ore. Captain of the snow-
masted skyships, Bill commands a grand view
of the broader cosmic ocean, but few
pirating here would notice. They feign no

divine justice, experience or clout;
sentences are delivered by readout.

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