This Recording

One dark night,
my Tudor Ford climbed the hill’s skull;
I watched for love-cars. Lights turned down,
they lay together, hull to hull,
where the graveyard shelves on the town… .
My mind’s not right.

- Robert Lowell

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   middle 50? I’d say he was better than… I’ll go with Keats. That guy was a pussy.

8. oldtobegin reblogged this from thisrecording and added:

   “skunk hour” is a perfect poem. click through

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