Brittle little champions
God-heads of Dis
And foundation of the scoundrel
What perversity is gentle hope
and such relief in disappointment
What temptation is prejudice
and such relief in indulgence
What demand is strength
and such freedom in weakness
How I adore the miserably ignorant cringing in the light
How tiring the omniscient smugness and cynicism replete in every glance
How wise are these sculpted words
lackluster simulacra of wild thought
And tame hand
The beauty of a photograph of a beauty un-replicable

A picture of a picture of this painting
of our sunset