Read Ebook: Point Spread Poems by Brown Paul Cameron

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Ebook has 257 lines and 12419 words, and 6 pages

X Little ripple, then blip on a sonar screen trailing off terminal living. Frame of reference like a gyroscope breading free.

There is no substitute for victory. Conviction has its price. Its a funny, old world if only Maggie Thatcher knew.

MIDPOINT

The thin, feathery blue egg-shell curtains gently tossing, the tin smile of the roof armada its metal armour flashing to inch their shingle way into escalade-escadrille formation and leathery sky.

TWINKLING OF AN EYE

SERENADE

A green flotilla, verdant armada stone hand encased in an arm of ocean off blue-grotto bay.

Something avuncular where land meets sea --underdog, whipped cur, adult "son" posturing to the elder, pontificating man.

Melaque after dark or was it Aguascalientes'? Monterrey at sunset prior to "the" pop festival or Morelia, on eve of feasts to that native patriot'?

Vera Cruz, 1915, at the height of American occupation with Pershing tailing the hirsute Pancho Villa in Sinaloa outdated rock & gunboat diplomacy --no longer exotic fare plate of frivoles, fried banana Mahi-Mahi.

On the palette, dreams are fickle, subject to "drunk and disorderly resisting arrest," outmoded and fuzzy with age.

Policeman of the Olmec intellect, you dance late on feather boas this Mariachis of the soul with glittering purse and yellow, travelling nectar Tequila.

HIDDEN AGENDA

Mariachis, almost a Spanish temperament within those stars, --a screen peppered to black, pebbles as pinholes bright in the night air.

Winged bats, moist velvet foot-pads that spring from ink spots onto an El Greco canvas where Garcia Lorca's green, Andalusian hills find the wind a gypsy bandit sage, red flower of the cacti, ballad to rakish cloud.

A ship shamelessly at sea-- the scorpion cloth of open wounds, dark implants, sturdy oak constellations, English yew spouts tremulous shafts across weather-burnt sky.

A dock in a prison of rose-petal harbour. Piers along deep, inner space. Our planet, rockface. Sheer plummet. Accordion of white light.

Up green ache of mountain the muffled sound Goya's Colossus, the head of the giant voyaging thru embroidery and stellar, black space; tombstone lock on a pulsating world.

ADVENTURER

How desert islands in a cartoonist's imagination invariably are flat, palm-studded peopled by a solitary, abject yet humorous man.

In real time, no delight; such islets are razor hot, rock sharp treeless, barren slabs ... examples of art shirking, but not shrinking life.

Three days growth of beard, bottle with note on the incoming tide comic survivor swimming up , shirts waved in unison predictable disappointment et al, glum hands to face then the inevitable credulity splitting retort amid plaything for the crabs.

SLIPPER

When I was very young onto school, a slick of water curled under a behemoth, silver poplar tree ... there, white underbacks of leaves waved in showy pride the dead underbellies of bass ... as tall boys, big with rakish, probing, anthracite eyes, stooped in the creek their red, exposed flesh colour of school brick.

HELLULAND

We built bottlecaps off ship's sides , Viking masts shining thru imagined Norse seas.

Sporting logs, piercing beer hats/silver foil, grey wraps & burlap, Atlantic capes, our twin peaks soared.

New Found Land marvelled tale of warm, butter moon with outpourings around penknife's blade.

To tame Sutton Hoo, bronze copper, cruising wintery water, Anse aux Meadows, occasional dirt shack skraelings, jagged blade & arrow backward into time for Helluland, yet marooned in the Land God gave Cain.

TRINKETS

My mind a buzz saw, wood chips in decapitated thought soil chilblained hands

II Cleansing wood, the keen smell of sawdust --good, raw earth drenching the nostril, clean odour of nature like my brain, a broomstick sweeping the coffee pot speaking ... bubbles massed in steam inchoate in their pensive rivulets.

A THIEF'S NOTEBOOK

Baggage. Banal brigands, turn-coats, stiletto to dirk appraise warm flesh upraised over a pie-shaped sky, bread crust moon.

On oyster rock, with grinning, red hibiscus, jute and henequin smother the lavender caress of stars.

WARHORSE

Taken as metaphor ... Ophelia's funeral oration, derogatory snout of the Morning Glory breathing pollened fire overladen steps of the church.

II Limestone rock caulking in grey limpid cracks ... doublet and hose then gold doubloons down sunlit honey where a smear of red lichen onto brown-yellow moss colonizes rock.

V Night plummets to quarry, sky to earth in brazen glory. Magic of the palm spans an upturned hand ... "To each his own nothing's known."

TEETER-TOTTER

He was Popeye the Sailor Man --at least in Picture book and poem the mind falling from a drooping ledge, thrust of twilight though working up to the bargaining edge of words ...

Then, synchronicity and cuteness aside, the all too old pretending became the gaping edge of Popeye's spinach can, a soul lost not to Sweet Pea or Olive Oil, but barnacle and rip-tides of a brain slipping its moorings free.

CHEMIN DE FER

Had I been a gambling man, eschewing the "shoe" of chemin de fer ... perpetually perched upon that throne ... effete kingdom of the dice.

II I am that gambling man ... taking free access to many a natural habitat, lure of the open road, contents under a bottle cap, the riverine delicacies of female flesh. Svelte, like the croupier's green vision of cloth, tingley-trigger smooth yet addictive to the touch.

V Something primeval about wanting to trade up your fortune at the expense of the House. Ambuscades. Indecision.

VI Games of chance the apt metaphor of our daily roulettes.

WITHIN REACH

There are two images, a moon within reach yet trapped under snow-- an old woman's threadbare shawl with peasants furiously working brooms scraping ice shavings into howls and husks of frenzy.

Ii Then the same pond, this time summer with fishing nets, and briefer shawls pirating light's wanton swoon, a spyglass hour moon all bathed in yellow colour of kerosene --a rich creamy butter-- goldilocks let out on weekends her spun, golden tresses lowered onto the water like so many little boats nimbly hopping aboard.

lii A kerchief folded on a fence a man wearing an overcoat living there in white satin swooning to the pianist's expert touch down magic chambers soothing, soothing there to fold and tear the pileated moonlit edge of her skin.

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