Across the bay
the volcano gathers
rusty scarves
around its neck.
One white ship
moves trance-like on the gray
spidery wake
of the white moon.
In the pines
on the cliff
leaning to the sea
over the yellow caves
warbling goldfinches
able to melt
the heart. Cactus
& date palm do
not stir. Breath
held-a roar
then (blow
torches by the
million?) bursts. The
U.S. carrier
propellers.
Color & Sound
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