Kohl-Rimmed Glasses

there is a change
and i am poor
a retrograde flourishes
where an eclipse once stood
but small romances ensue

what sort of argument can one bring
against clean laundry
and a clean body to insert therein
and a quiet tree-lined street
in which to perambulate

and while the moon still sings
upon its head spike
and the castanets still chatter
television will remain
an old bald heron

a minotaur
to a purple orange
alone in a small glass
severed hand
Coleridge
in the Queen's Head
drinking