Where once the fog of Hampton grouped
and tottering vagabonds would stoop
to pick pennies like peonies from the street,
where peddlers with clergymen would meet

The oldest

Coffman poem about pique

Heirophanies
     of dusty
          moons
               bespelled
          in the
     sparrow's
kiss

     plumeria
          and
               nightshade
          smother
     the crumbling

          gisants
     of the
necropolis