Words have the same
consistency as images
in all their instars

as if sentimental chameleons
lavished thicker sunlight
once the horizon disappears

and powder of sympathy
navigates the real world
made of real words

champagne and salted almonds
over and over again
in a hail of bullets

Nobody knows
what kind of trope is
has your name on it

but glance on a great stir
This then was now
We can screenscrape it in