The diehard republic crawls out of a forgotten hole,
stumbles towards the alien city of pastel spires,
moribund four-armed warriors, and vine-draped minarets,
stabs the door guard in his sleep,
plunders discorporeal relics from windowless displays,
appoints itself god,
kills the men, ravishes the women,
then raises everything anew,
much better than before.

David Kopaska-Merkel grew up in what was once the largest state, Virginia, which for a while stretched all the way to the Pacific Ocean. He now describes rocks in the city where the dentist is king, and has made that joke way too many times. David lives with a spouse, a child, five small furry things, and innumerable hangers-on too small to see with the naked eye.