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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