Tuesday poem #166 : George Bowering : Attired

Look at her in those blue jeans, watch

her long legs walking up that gentle slope––

that’s time passing by. F.R. Scott used to do that,

I know him now, though he stood stiff, his

posture learned during a previous ka-chíng!

of centuries, back when bookshelves looked

less like boards.

                               I was recently offered a “global

coffee,” and timidly turned the offer away; wit,

I understand, is not ancient, nor does it abide with

children; wit is not convenient, it is nearly always

an unfamiliar visitor who plays with you

a second or two. You never want to wear

brown clothes, you want to stop time to

speed it up. Up that gentle slope where my Uncle

Red is taking a breather, he and his horn-rimmed

cigarette holder. Uncle Red’s dog hated my dog, but they

rimed, killer terriers who never reviewed a book.

Say a book by F.R. Scott, born in 1899, lived with

one eye, bit a cigarette holder, knew more about time

than you’ll ever know.

George Bowering's [pictured with Ivy Zhang, the girl who saved his life] most recent book of poems is The World, I Guess (2015) from New Star Books. In spring his hockey book, The Hockey Scribbler, appeared from ECW. In Fall 2016 his book about becoming a father, co-authored by Charles Demers, will be published by Arsenal Pulp. We don't have a title yet, and Charles did not go for my suggestion, George, the Book.

the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan