Tuesday, December 12, 2017

12.12


light coming into clouds above black plane of ridge

waning white moon next to pine branch in foreground


gaze into essence part of thinking, one can oneself

as if once done, pictures invention, minutest scale


one’s skinny sestina makes two of them in the world

poet thinking we’re practically a literary movement


reddish orange clouds above black shoulder of ridge

shadowed white line of wave breaking across channel


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