MASCARA-VISCERA

By

Paul Cameron Brown

Foreword Page

"The voyage of the best ship
is a zigzag line of
a hundred tacks".
Emerson

9 Flashpoint
10 Marzipan
11 Santo Domingo
12 White China Plates I
14 White China Plates II
15 Mail Drop
16 Headdress
17 Airbrush
18 Swords and Roses
20 Moonrock
21 Smokestack
22 Tickings of a Clock
23 Flashpoint
24 Equinox
26 Penny Wise, Pound Poor
28 Metaphor
29 Embers
30 Skin
31 Asgard
32 Old Brompton Road
33 Street Scene
34 Curse of The Downtown Trade
35 In My Books
36 Made in Space
37 Godiva
38 Pelée
39 Pelée: May 8, 1902
40 Electra
41 Sideway Look
42 Lolita Gardens
43 Unpaginated
45 Sequin
46 Yellow Hair
47 Piltdown Man
49 Spanked
50 The Crowkeeper
51 Cuando-Cubango
52 Onomatopoeia
53 At the Red Throat
55 Shamrock
56 Lost Patrol
57 Blackamoor
59 Up from the Floor
60 Men of Shade
61 Knight-Errant
63 Water Fast (The Pearl Fishers)
65 Tales of a Brave Ulysses
66 Inside Seam
68 Debriefing
70 Naiad Trance
72 Pyromania
73 Tide Charts
75 Village Idiot
76 Clippership
77 Flood
78 Kipper, Tea and Oranges
79 Tank-top
80 Viewer Mail
81 Seagulls
82 Imagistic
83 Living Room
84 High Roller
88 The Garden
89 Canvassing
90 Comments

FLASHPOINT

1
The moon has a larder
and a kitchen,
wears a nightcap
as Father in the Night Before Christmas.

2
The moon hoards pistachios,
marzipan
commands the shadows
is mustachioed
sleeps in a sloop
(at least when I look)
like the boat
owl and pussycat
took to sea.

3
And on country nights
in high summer
fishing nets seem drawn
about his face,
reveal ribbons of light,
eerie panhandlers grubbing quarters;
a sinister sailor with a sack
on a pitch black wharf.

4
Between clouds,
leafy barques
the hinge reflected on the
thick, ashen door
the moon will pirate
your senses
set them adrift
amidst twilight islands
in the mind's Outer Hebrides
where mystery is king
and the hem of robe you kiss
is an envelope pilfered.

[9]

MARZIPAN

1
A thick hole in the dark
from which
stars pour silver
as in pails
their runny divide
ink-strewn scalps
torn from the roof of the sky.

2
Padded footprints
giant ferns blooming
constellation prints,
the wind an athlete
pacing about a track
drying thru fingerprints
thin, nectarine light.

3
Sand down whitest skin
moving past your hand
a gown, mauve to green,
iceberg lettuce,
the black festering
across a ribcage;
while night arranges
moths to dusting powder
pucker-lipped
fronds from afar

4
Afar, the word a gypsy
tangled in the waves,
foam from a medicine bottle
agitated and strewn,
bubbles calculated in gasps
light into the distance
forlorn
tree-frogs, the cricket
sound round deep
--movement of night as
a rumbling in the ground,

[10]

SANTO DOMINGO

In the crypt with Columbus
in the crypt with Giovanni
of Genoa, the diaspora driven Jew;
watching flecks of the cathedral floor
jade-eyed and mica afraid
yawning down brown the abyss, his skeletal coffin
thin accae wood,
phlegm coloured
flamed ointment
of the saints
in holy water
bridging the little centuries.

2
Serpentine heavens
in coiled stars
heaving like passion fruit
hung down piano wire.

3
Meteors douse the light
of black stems,
eye holes cut of old Spanish
sailors; thin ghosts
plundering night.

4
Melange tableaux
peut-étre les étoiles
sont oiseaux.

[11]

WHITE CHINA PLATES I

The moon hummed like a refrigerator,
light thru shadows
--the solitude of dusk closing in;
black scars visible across
the moon's face shaped like
mountainous hands, all
silent, the occasional leaf rustling.

2
My fork at plate's edge listening,
listening to the haunting one eye
on the staircase wall white
as the numb light outside palest night.
Caught off-guard, the musty settee
and armchair acting as hallucinogen
to the nostril, the calendar of events
playing ghostly tag with sheer curtains
hovering, shroud-like, on the family Bible
big and brown as the Lord's foot stool.

3
The unravelling tale slowly much as
thick yarn with a kitten
batting it, one event at a time
in sepulchre movement down a
linoleum floor. Two twins burning,
fever scalded in frigid water only
shock setting in, dying to join
the black creek water from which
her unwilling buckets borrowed
this liquid crucifixion and bitter vinegar.

4
Or the drive-house door, silent in precision,
unseen hands before marauding
hoofs in unison dark from windows' edge
to better hear little poke of
sleigh bells or harness rattling grim
with a sick man's cough.

5
This admission of spectral animals
somehow more unsettling than
the young woman next combing her
hair at the foot of the bed scaring
the daylights out of me picturing
the whereabouts of stockinged feet,
these tricksters from another world;
drum and kettle corps gypsy fife
with harbinger doom to rasp of
falling broom--
old and yellow silky straw witch's hair--
and a cat dark
as the Devil's very bread.

[12]

WHITE CHINA PLATES II

You could have driven
a pick-up truck
thru spokes of that moon, so big and radiant
this upended water chestnut--
ground mist weeping
in the shadows
flutter of an old woman's shawl,
the clammy smell like
a child's fingers to the face,
a little unsettling
crickets and dew in brigades
running tears on the old
shoe leather.

[14]

MAIL DROP

A boat sits on the very shallows
of a lake
in egg-cup fashion,
a tea-cosy covering waves,
orchestrating the bob of colours
in white enamel blue
inverted water.

Afar, the boat is a rasher of bacon
a strip, stripling, stipend
slicing the lake,
distancing.

The boat is an envelope
at the end of the world,
planet-sized, pea-green
about to spin crazily
into the sun at the
end of a rifle-sized
mail drop.

The boat rides amid the
between places of things,
furtive longings
where crones sit within
waiting bushes &
lizards visit skin,
dirge of teeth gnashing
the fringe canopy of
flowing leaves.

[15]

HEADDRESS

Stravinsky's Firebird,
Debussy's La Mer
lilting arrangement like a windmill
with a little Hottentot of a bird
scurrying over leaves
like hot coals,
nest a pudding arrangement,
oven-shaped,
dappled with a string.

She is alternatively
lady of the green shoots,
Empress of an Andes of twigs
for this cow-pie upended
between trees
is fortress and manor,
blockhouse and Maginot Line
careening between the branches
much as a sloth
toe ambles
across the roof of a forest
gingerly stepping on noise,
clinging to velvet footpads,
sitting between shadows
within the roar of a clearing.

[16]

AIRBRUSH

Iced coffee,
wedge of toast--
the sun poking thru
cranberry glass
delights exquisite Duchess of Berry,
her decanters & an hourglass.

Halo-hello in your fingertips
I said,
to a cadaver of light
boldly striking a tuning fork
to ring an engagement
of gold flecks
by your bed.

Limoges vase
for lace and pretty underthings
for outside the stream
steals my interest,
wearing tumbledown silk pyjamas
and a peek-a-boo smile that points
thru reed curtains.

A rustle from her chemise
and sun parasol parts green boudoir
draping shiny, black rock.

The muddle of this earth-time puzzle,
brief flutter to the eyelid's butter--
I saw match-flare
crocheted into the snake eyes
of your dress.

[17]

SWORDS AND ROSES

Some lives have themes.
Goldfish that stubbornly die;
compatability only with distant lovers
--flowers (but no sweet-breads)
that wilt to the touch.

Waiting. Charcoal-grey cat
agreeably on a green linoleum table
with light basking in....
a tad playful,
paws up,
(classic boxer stance)
but no one notices.
Others oblique in their transparency,
are unmindful of even the empty closet
and greeting cards that smile hello.

In the dark
this room shimmers below
life-raft status;
chairs are buoys
bobbing under waves
of congealed fright.
In the morning
the first pigeons
rifle over rooftops,
mad flutterings like your eyes
stabbing gables looking curiously
like your heart.
A tree bandaged in wood
manages a feeble handshake
with sky cajoling winter.

But it is the moon,
large and eerie,
a golden earring
mindful of a Chinese panda
that plies its trade.

Mandarin-like, a snout
so cloud-entrenched
soft night barely resembles
willow and bamboo shoots
the universe left to feed her.

Nuggets or nougats?
Should I call you "opaque",
use coke-bottle glass as a
symbol of light-headedness, transparency?
Keen vision?
Could it be more is known of outer space
than your mind
or that leaves,
frosted with cold,
are conducting interviews
maliciously within the park fold?

Rather (and this is so circumspect)
no one owes anyone
in the brisk coinage and trade
that breeds human waste ...

So drivel passes as conversation,
a handshake for real investment.
A lot in common, the wrong dreams.
Pretty awareness, the desolate pennies
stumble from our hands.

More substance, really,
in the rustle of a silk dress
or static electricity
that pops over orb-sized breasts.
Hide and seek
peek a boo,
you don't need me
I don't need you.

[18]

MOONROCK

She wears a cat encrusted T-shirt
& panties with L*O*V*E
guarding the Paradise door
& when balm of night
casts shadows,
her face is moonrock
distant to mysterious
down storybook crags;
her darling form cloaked
in twilight garments
of an inky earth.

Gates of Venus,
. . . as if feline whiskers
whispered, wan cat eyes
in amber dark glowed pale honey
in alchemy or blur of soft movement
was caress to stars' elopement
with the sky.

This woman summons fire,
stokes furnaces to quicken parchment leaves
of flame-thick desire,
honed soft on ripples
skin tones were curvaceous
drift of oars, vivacious breast on buttock's
door, more moisture bead
holding regal court,
this prance down wet & downy stair.

Rain is a swift messenger
paw prints
with descent of night
where moon
becomes a plaything of
clouds' passion,
and pincushion
upward surge of
clammy earth.

[20]

SMOKESTACK

A small fish,
its colors
embers
amid the swirling water;
reminiscent of a
café in darkness--
the smokestack tablecloth fluttering
in the matchbox breeze.

[21]

TICKINGS OF A CLOCK

I began to see old lanterns, books
opening/folding within your eyes;
a pale light running as silver
to the sea.

Then crestfallen leaves dangling
as from fishhooks or the autumn moon's
skeletal lightness tossing a path
between waves over this sidewalk, that,
with the back streets passing occasional
hisses at the main culprit, night.

The prim measurement of your smile,
not the wan neglect of cool skin tones
or fabric always more suggestive
of summer colours, sideway movement
of shadow into tickings of a clock.

Rather mist and clamminess,
lipstick in a smear as a
thumbprint before the
coughing of a motorcar
as its elliptical wedge
tears darkness
away from sight.

[22]

FLASHPOINT

CHOPSTICKS

Only marginal chances
of finding a Great White
in my coffee
although the cigaret's tubular belly
is flotsam against my hand--
a dirty kerosene color, sleek & grey.

2
And stirring the embers of my cup,
suppose the grinds become primitive shark lore
of forgotten peoples or death sticks,
dry rot teeth, fathoms
squinting light.

[23]

EQUINOX

The four Equinox sisters,
the one, Fox, streaked--
all color, a blur
a Bloomingdale's on fire,
a wedge between Everest
& her fortune.

Samantha, the other
dun-coloured
earth-tide (in full bloom),
blossoms vernally & literally
busting out of her breeches with
eyes like barely sugar.
Jubilee. Fête de la vie.
Lighthouse keeper beckoning twin
shafts of warmth. Camberwell Beauty.
Rattan Bar, shooting star.

Carraciou (and castanet) an evening song,
the most buxom but with dog days & tiresome moods
flushed with heat.
Tidewater in full ripple, a
murmuring of abstract intelligence
orchestrating summer's growth.
Emerald keeper. Silken flax
beguiling smile, wiggling toes.
A stickler for detail, she was (with endless
contortions) always in the grass.

Brumaire, evaporating vapors,
the most withdrawn &
difficult to know--
a dead leaf combed thru
wind-swept hair.

Infernally inclined, a modicum
of sparse economy idly knotting ice thru
a cadaver fence before putting on a brave show--
her stern beauty and most commanding feature, snow,
shone like almonds or stars twinkling from
an anorexic fist.

Alabaster, her prison whiteness
this Brumaire.
A clock, pier,
immovable, still.

Firing up the flashlight
in the dark like
beautiful woods sleeping.

[24]

PENNY WISE, POUND POOR

Fall was a tubercular cousin
residing in the country
sparse hair,
rasping cough.

2
Night air was damaging
stringing pumpkins
around orange chains, the
milkweed pod shivering
in open shirtsleeves
little noises sifting
from burrows in her chest.

3
Fall was...
reputedly from another country
wore glaring cravats,
gold leaf and Rubenesque chain;
stalked the lark
mocked the breeze.

4
Penny wise, pound poor
leaves
a shock of hair
prematurely white
degradingly picked from
the comb
flung out fireflies
crisp bodies to singe
fire-cold light.

5
Advancing stairs
in poor light,
the season became makeshift
wallpaper
hung by tedious hands.
Little seep of plaster dirt
escaping the touch,
grass bristled by frost
where occasional flower
was torched with cold
savaged bees
stumbled from the weeds.

[26]

METAPHOR

There is a star near
the hinge of planets,
a barn under
a cow's lick of moon--
plausible people
moving thru an
airless universe.

Pay attention to the frond of lilac
. . . limestone troughs upon which
thickets of Indian scalp &
devil's paintbrush soar
to the horizon
and, afterwards,
little creeks run
with the sparrows of evening time
in step to tiny boatmen
that echo enamelled snails
from the very consonants of earth.

Rustle of leaves,
some might argue
breathless gasps
to intone the savagery
of little seasonal voices
cut off
mid-stream.

A spate of bees,
early colonizers
deflower blossoms and
strip-mine lava butter of erupting
hard-shell tulips:
such careless penetrations--
volcanic intrusions entomb
their hairy bodies caked with
the iron-lung of blackened soot petals,
each a cough drop
on the heaving breath
of a declining afternoon.

[28]

EMBERS

As you enter into dream--
its the unconsciousness
which stifles,
the thin embers
called flame
that outdistance
the controlled rubric
of desire.

[29]

SKIN

Her emerald top
phosphorescent candy glow
stick candy,
sno' cane--
floss like
the mane revealed beneath,
spun hair matted/woven into
icicle lengths & pubis mink.

Her presence as a monk sliding
under a cowl, jet-black velvet
or midnight eye-liner shadow
knotting strands of dark.

She comes on waves--
candelabra is a name
deft movement of finger
caressing storm, bare legs
shining wet street lamps
decantered ambered wine.

Cigarette floating between lips,
uncharted voyage of the smile
where puffs of smoke
are parrots' wings,
incandescent show-girls
in novelty across the flame.

[30]

ASGARD

In the ardour
of an Asgard fire
see adders from her
vinous fire per
adua ad astra.

Listen to the wind--
the ageless, intoning wind,
a sea-hag encrusted on
a mattress of waves.

Cat's footfall,
breath of fish
the flowering beard of a woman.

[31]

OLD BROMPTON ROAD

"Death is but a sleep"
quaint rationalization
even to Revolutionaries.
Think of Robespierre
holding his bleeding jaw
or Marat outside--
eyeing the inscription,
scofula no longer distracting while
tepidly emptying bath water.

2
Dreams, poetry of painting,
deathly pastel shades alongside
granite canyons
entwined with rosebuds and leaves--
bone horseshoes clanking in the dark.

3
Catch basin, drainage ditch
upon which the raspberry
parts its tendrils and
human remains, the loathing
of the living ("not dead yet...."
...appropriate obscenity:)
scrawled on one Victorian
mortuary, windows knocked out,
coffins in full view a
hand's reach away on a dare
dignitaries in a pile pried loose;
one, few years hence across
the Channel, sworn enemy
to the French.

[32]

STREET SCENE

No open barge
crowded with nameless waifs
or junks in a teeming harbour--
just odours spilling from
a back alley,
stair wells littered with cheap saki
bottles, one propped
to rifle the door.

[33]

Curse of The Downtown Trade

Foreword Page

[34]

IN MY BOOKS

The way I figure it, a number of people are
out of control at any given time ...
gin rummy & hockey notwithstanding.

Mickey bottles and varicose veins
are sure signs of indulgence
as are, proof-positive, speed-traps &
roll your own Black Cat.

Sure 'nuff, even Sunday driving stands
at the motor edge of frenzy while
Mom's apple pie is little more than just peaches & cream
home baked greed.

Take stock car racing or the trots, Little Orphan Annie
Comics or Budweiser. Vice, like charity, starts at home.

Each curtails a larger problem and self worship
begins the moment your zipper opens.

[35]

MADE IN SPACE

Mood food. In deep, deep water
without the thought of water bottom,
I thought of you.

Sous la peau rouge,
Chartreuse, I thought
of you.

Dans le cafe du paradis,
ile au emeraude.
Cascades aux ecrivisses
la belle aux Bois dormant.
Tir a l'arc, volcon.

Precious little majesty to Words
nor necromancy of place names,
ma douce.

Partout, je te vous.

[36]

GODIVA

Lingerie,
black pumps
a navel creamy enough
to drown a kitten--
the clothes assemble
in microwave fashion
--crackle of fire--
the silver pants zoom across legs
with curves so caress bound
a formula racing driver
might tumble.

As eyes rise
in jade lantern face
& hair is brushed
with all sheen aside,
the lady is more than
a Godiva
or Goldwyn-Mayer cinematic production,
this oasis of sparks,
twin peaks of McKinley-Matterhorn fame,
her calendar of words
pulling Oil of Olay
& perfumed honey thru
each studied remark.

[37]

PELÉE

The night before ...
sultry Martinique, a
tortoise shell cat
climbed, lap to pipe,
amid curbs of orange smoke.

2
Mount Pelée, a
smoking hard hat
with the candle-wax of longing
gutting in paraffin for
30,000 souls sent to the Crematorium
her harbour hissing
lava foam;
even coffee beans fused into
other metal bits, a
danse macabre twittering machine,
(nature au contraire),
tortoise shell improviso with
splotched colours weaving dawn's light
& feline crouching.

3
--the curl of her island's paws
lanced in heat,
brief wisps tugging Pelée's
synopsis (dark & smouldering), with
cat eyes glowing
up the mountain dark
into vegetative whiskers.

4
Pull of my pipe full leap of centuries
before the bite of the stem
dumped fire again

[38]

PELÉE: MAY 8, 1902

With the smile of morning
in her purse,
the dark laughter of her
cat napping
in the crevice, half-alert,
Martinique (angelique)
on padded paws
climbs from night.

I saw her hair-brush
the lava to warm the bay,
crinkle little St. Pierre
jammed into one
parking lot, volcanic embrace.

In the little museum
--the holocaust cenotaph--
Nature pared essentials to the bone,
a cauldron of smoke
peers from old photographs
to cement (danse macabre)
bric à brac ivy/stone and
coffee beans wedded
in grandeur
fission-fusion-froideur
resembling masses of bees,
grotesqueries & beards
upstaging even Miro & the distant surrealists;
where reality masked vampire fiction to
roll sulphuric heat toward belches of
St. Pierre's prison.

And Cygnet
(his name close in French to "Swan")
leg-irons)
(subterranean chamberling peeking out),
undaunted solitary survivor--
the bars on his charnel house
were the fingers of God
pointing the way free.

[39]

ELECTRA

Fantasy, Capri. The edge of a pillow.
Certain words--murmur, seashells.
A face beckoning thru time, lacy windows with
purple shades simultaneously drawn.
Tears of gold. Love signs,
glass of champagne.

A tree of hemlock nearby. A delightful print
tablecloth that signals the breeze. The courtier
in fancy dress. Twin bottles of vintage wine abreast
rider and horse.

Potables. A blue eggshell. The sun stirring Virginia Creeper
that moves in unison with the wind.

Electra and electricity, the current that prods the mind.

[40]

SIDEWAY LOOK

It's snowing and all I can think of
are leaves to wrap your memory,
leaves pungent as tea,
green curls alive
with the promise of fire,
shutes like fingers
to play a tap on your skin.

The snow is wet like your eyes at parting,
cold as the promise of a winter dawn
wet again as city-streets
I must tread to make a living,
the flask of wine
pressed to my lips.

On the winter landscape all
I see is the ghost white of sheets,
our sheets wrapped to keep breath warm
the log cannisters of our bed
a heady raft upon which to travel
to burn up an ocean of delight.

[41]

LOLITA GARDENS

A man weeps at your ankles,
climbs the stairs to peek-a-boo
panties, with finger clasps,
a Rapunzel lowering your hair,
the long-matted braids
a skilful weaver turns to gold.

An ivy forest in
a castle impregnated with doors,
the prince overhears the code
"let down your hair" and,
with perilous grasp,
mounts the stirrup wall,
foot to clasp,
searching cloud grey &
storm blasts for billowy mists
green within this empress queen.

Walking plasticine ledge
in the shower with a mermaid
soaping her perfumed treasure trove,
at an intersection within that woman,
her tulip trees explode--
faeryland syrupy,
tasting of apricot and sugar cane;
a swallow parting indigo sky.

[42]

UNPAGINATED

Orchestrating violins thru whisky sky
clouds slide like billiard balls
a Jackie Gleason - Fats Domino
ricochet off greener velvet;
my pheasant escaping snow.

Jack Ketch the hangman
in brilliant plumage,
a touch of Borgia in
long, murderous hands.

The light of Capone in
steeple-dark eyes
running like a
haunted ship
around the white, facial disc.

Offset. Bold type.
I see you through pages
of my history book
only you're unpaginated.

Unclench the fist,
watch for effervescent islets,
erotic mounds of Venus or
protuberances called Marquesas
off my left hand.

Omens are the cloth
of dreams, scissors
used to open sky.

Work out cosmic debts--
figure stone footprints on Hollywood Blvd.
en route to Tijuana for a start;
I should have been Buddha incarnate
or curator at the Hermitage,
wild shaman for the Arapaho
not a cocoa butter salesman
from New Jersey, nagging
soda-jerk in L.A.
'bout the time
of Marilyn Monroe's
quick magic.

The Almighty unpacking orange crates,
sending Florida cold
unravelling karmic debt,
brass studs in your eye
mowing suckers with your scythe;
Birthpath urge, Father Time,
de-gutting chickens at Pleasure Farms
looking to Hindoos for clues
(placing roaches on a lucky few.)

This hurdle over stones
crass fortitude ensemble,
strange melange
spewing nails,
elbows round thin pain
gutter cathedral looming into view
where there
is more viscera than mirth before
ripples of enchantment
cause vibrations at four
and the phrenology
of universal measure
is a moon
ribcage in light
--gazelle of trees
a dinosaur in height.

[43]

The Project Gutenberg eBook of Mascara-Viscera

MASCARA-VISCERA

By

Paul Cameron Brown

CONTENTS

FLASHPOINT

MARZIPAN

SANTO DOMINGO

WHITE CHINA PLATES I

WHITE CHINA PLATES II

MAIL DROP

HEADDRESS

AIRBRUSH

SWORDS AND ROSES

MOONROCK

SMOKESTACK

TICKINGS OF A CLOCK

FLASHPOINT

CHOPSTICKS

EQUINOX

PENNY WISE, POUND POOR

METAPHOR

EMBERS

SKIN

ASGARD

OLD BROMPTON ROAD

STREET SCENE

Curse of The Downtown Trade

IN MY BOOKS

MADE IN SPACE

GODIVA

PELÉE

PELÉE: MAY 8, 1902

ELECTRA

SIDEWAY LOOK

LOLITA GARDENS

UNPAGINATED