The Mask

Off it comes
many sculpted presences
shining polished Pantalone
and our Janus dell 'arte
takes crafted passage
on stage that has
become a park
and like a worm
on a plinth
it sheds
stripped of platitudes
your face is the sun
catching every
beam of eye
helm of hair
skull as layered shale
and some halo of static
cries with charge
with the rawness of birth
red with rise
taking a breath
after a deep breath
blowing out fires
with the pollen of
thoughts less their whirlwind
intransitive to its desire
waiting as long as it
takes
to know every patch
under step
like the rest
I rested that I will tell
you about again
in bright pores
and this smile
that you know
takes a leaden century
to give a magnitude of warmth
a nod to a commonality
greater than itself
the broad bread known to
the solid part of scripts
we rattle off like scores
and the reporting
of an unsighted clearing
was for another day's
conversation of course
when this time directs
us as a threaded plumb bob
to stay and hear the
continuance we're ready to.