A square, abstracted, on a round surface,
carrying an image  less clearly abstract:
more a mess, chaos maybe, of small things,
individuated without reference
to the whole – which is one thing cannot be seen
from far back, the height varying the frame,
and is delineated by a seer.
It is a form which makes appealing sense
because it is familiar, easy.

One going out in it for close detail
would find each part leant at its best tilt
only at the point of observation,
all others radiating from the eyes,
making immense angular distortion.
They would also find more variation
than there seemed to be: like rips in canvas
where rivers, formed of big waves' overflow,
carved their valleys in a few seconds;
plant waste tangle-trapped in tide-made stone mounds
functioning as quick-fluctuating brush strokes.

Boulders in the bottom left-hand corner;
small stuff from half way up. Graduated.
Two thirds of what one sees is this grey stone
flowing southward in a single film-frame.
Two small tongues at the top; the east one small;
at west, base, near to – tilt again,
the artificiality of this –
and an enormous licking half way up.

Brief cloud shadows pass, changing nothing here
that is visible: crowding in a gallery.

Sand with a little weed at the bottom
decorated by fossil wave edges.

Fine sand, nearly vertical, cuts off the lick;
and then all sorts of rock that isn't grey –
ordered by colour? – and much thick seaweed,
a sand column rising to sand ceilings,
inverted steps: the globe turns on a squinch.

To the left, north, there is a new inlet
where, seemingly, water has uprooted
and fabricated the shore to towering
to force an early deep inundation,
limiting itself to a channel at low tide.

This could be said to be a rectangle
with a glistening vertical tending to curve
out of the picture at the right-hand side,
brightness of sand, shining, despite sands' matt,
reflecting the blue sky's colour and clouds
overlain by a green wash from the north.