I
Shark's-teeth mountains chew
light like molasses.  They show
some private sunset.

II
Forgotten guns cling
to the cliffs.  Silence of sky
and furze.  Graffiti.

III
Quick swallows witter.
The red-ripe sun relishes
its slow westering.

IV
Spanish cannons aim
out at this evening's ocean
and back through the years.

V
The long day shucks off
its golden ( Read more... )