These Non-coronate Rhymes

Whence came the novelist
When the sun was eclipsed?
And Old Dutch ketchup chips?

Sometimes it gets so eclipsey we are sent home,
To families unfamiliar in the gloom,
Where cookie jars' press-to-seal lids k'hubbalhum,
Like that sound one makes between fluffing a sentence
And retrying it, because nothing in tristesse
And loon of migraine is slick; and those pedants
By stinted dares on a miniature ingres sheet
Cannot see how I paint thus for the synesthete,
Using catachresis and transferred epithet,
But they distinguish between Sitter and Subject
When memory is the primary referent.
Rejecting the confined cosmos of these pendants
Of chrome, I will paint a memory: M. Imrie.

He had a holy look.