POINTS ON THE GRID
George Bowering
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FROM YOUR SON & LOVER
....Lawrence you old bore you die young
& leave immediacy
..............................convoluted images of sexy trees
& lovepanting peasant girls
& DHL men discussing the spirituality
of a spermy ribcage
.... Why dont you leave me alone? ....I dont want you
niggling away at me with your wordy non-sense
& worrying flash of in-sight
..............................................your knowing
grin sad behind every love act I make
....Take Joyce——
................................ he knew you didnt take a book
to bed your mind & the altar of your hips
resounded with the dirty names of sex
..............................——you never see
you dont have to wash it in fun
you old bore you
cant have any fun if you spend all
your energy in naming the thing
....It is the loins & not the dark secret of them
it is the deep breath of the woman
& not the universe it comes up from
it is the immediate feel of the fingers
& not their poised hesitation
over the keyboard
..............................I think I am glad
you died young for you could have had
second thoughts with your bath every day
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