Masking is lesser than hiding –It holds positionCharacter carved and shaped Into immobile mien –Persona manufacturedIdentity found in isolat
Sometimes all I have/there is to offer, in times of excess? Is kenning via poetry:
WHEN WINTER COMES WE GO TO THE UNDERGROUND SMOKEHOUSE
Masking is lesser than hiding — It holds position Character carved and shaped Into immobile mien — Persona manufactured Identity found in isolation Stamped in self-similar replication
But beneath Behind face and feature Hollows most black hold help — That mask has no back Mr. Punch’s Swizzle Stops Sticking — Old Harry and Harlequin both Flexing fingers
Judy takes her Holofernes-head Hand unfurling Palm opening out Empty and opaque — Exceedingly illegible In her trade with tricksters Her carnival of crossroads care With crippled conspirators
And so the fasces is fumbled: Foiled by faggot-falling-apart Immanent intimacies Amongst harmful victims Viciously vulnerable With dreadful Gorgonic gaze
Serpentine sanctuaries have fangs Bringing forth thick obscuring smoke Care-fully curing despite strife Taking passage within and beneath The dark woe-winter Into the house of smoke we slip Soothing souls by weavings of relation Wyrd works and crips all things. Even this.
