The Island Sparkles Industry

The island sparkles industry,
far to the left;
and eyes of distant houses
look at us goldenly
from the sea-cleft
and the torches of the gorse
light home the hawking bats,
and the early swallows.
In the saffron hollows
eyes of distant houses
box in domestic patterns.
The cones of slate,
the oceaned stones,
with their bones of spattered marble,
become the colour of the bay
which is the colour grey,
the colour of the sea-merged evening,
the colour of the breaking day.
by Michael Hartnett

(When I first read his poems, the similarity between them and my photographs seemed so eerie.)

Oh man, I am so hangover. Went to see the Canadian band Constantines last night. Great gig. I am paying for it now. ("Aren't you getting too old for this?" I hear my mama screaming in my head ... oh well, give me another couple of decades).