The Family of Darius before Alexander

1. The Family of Darius before Alexander by Paolo Veronese (a poem sequence)

2. Jazz hot headed modelturns up in pinkthinks he's Alexander himselfhow I suffer the tantrumsof this prima donnaeach time he walksthrough the doorah, let himhave his wayhe knows my reputationfor colourhe knowsI will softento his whim

3. Gary Blankenship Of Monkeys, Dwarfs and Future Wives Surrounded by courtiers, plump daughters, and monkeys caressing golden chains, conqueror and conquered take measure of the other, one fails and one forgives. The artist found the glory of Venice whether Persia depicted or Jerusalem, dogs, midgets and German soldiery might wind toward the defeated’s palace. Before the inquisition, he stood defiant, before Alexander, she stood supplicant; each in their way true to their own nature, the queen forgiving, the artist a hero, And least I forget, the plump daughter – the boy-king’s mistress, wife and love.

4. Jim Bennett an inventory of clouds after everything in the house and bricks and mortar on Wednesday we made an inventory of the clouds three growing cumulus promising rain later but maybe somewhere else some high cirrus and a distant lenticular cloud over Wales I’ll settle for thealtocumulus that look like elephants traipsing across the sky and a contrail pointing to the New World but you, like Alexander, Napoleon, Hitler and all the other despots you read about can have the rest including that crap picture of the guy in the red sandals

5. In England too, before my eyes I see an intellect arise, a writer greater than before with grasp of battle, greed, love, war, who will present our modes as word where our mere action cometh third to those who watch above our stage, from marbled pillars hark and gaze. That poet I praise, who fetches truth from dangerous battlefields and doth make pride and victory belong to homely as to kingly song. This all our lives are laid at home from histories of Greece and Rome Alexander addresses Darius' mother (somewhat tongue in cheek) Hold thou still: tis no defeat mistaking me - take thou thy seat, empress of thy husband's home. As I have to thy country come and as I have thine husband slain, to comfort thee I humbly deign. We suffer: other times shall tell our actions wrought both ill and well. Some artist, student of our times will paint our virtues with our crimes, a canvas of our peopled hall that evenly depicts us all, and will not treat a victor more who visits and invades thy door than serfs and servants, women folk, all humans under history's yoke. Sally Evans