POINTS ON THE GRID
George Bowering
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TUESDAY NIGHT
When the city huddles down
to sleep——and round
the corners lights on poles
tremble tighter patterns out and down
the rolling streets in pairs and strings
in ski-jump movement to the sea——
........................I know
........................where I am——
out west in the city——
Point Grey pointing west in the middle
of the night of rest extending to the sea——
hoving nightly away from the middle
of the city held together by bridges
in a surface-tension-taut-catching bend——
........................of bridge
........................pinioned Vancouver
where I know where I am——
on the arcing point reaching westward
bulge of high-dry-happy-dare hysterical
daytime Vancouver——subdued nightly--
down and huddled——hoving westward light——
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