It is the valley NOT shaped like a bowl, but a bowl. What I like about the poem is the way it successfully captures the paradoxical nature of memories, how they are triggered and exist in a world of their own. The gloaming is bitter As in Chicago Or Kenosha. The long sand changes. To-day is a goner.
Time knocks in another brass nail.
Another yellow plunger shoots the dark. Constellations Wheeling over Omaha As in Chicago Or Kenosha. The long sand is gone and all the talk is stars.