In the canon
Skunk Hour
- Form
- Form Poem
- Year
- Year 1959
- Pages
- Pages 2
In a decaying seaside town a poet spies on lovers' cars, feels his own mind give way, and finds the only creature unbowed by the dark is a mother skunk raiding the garbage.
I myself am hell; nobody's here—
The blurb, the gist, the why of the day and the work itself are in the app. The first button needs it on this device; the second gets it there.