WHITE RUBBER MASK
   
   
   
   

   
   I hold up this face. It looks out of
   two eyes, with a wide open mouth
   Now it brings to mind the Hopi
   diminished after thirteen centuries
   In one of their innumerable mystic rites
   all the Hopi opened wide their mouths
   to shout--but no sound came
   I'm waking from sleep
   Why is it so dark
   in that wide open mouth? In that
   screaming silent mouth I see always
   death chasing death. I see death
   crushing underfoot the teeth of creatures
   Death never makes a sound. Death
   merely appears, like that open mouth
   The shout must come from us. Crowds vanish
   
   
   Will my perplexities be resolved? My
   thoughts trip up my feet and
   haul me into greater horrors
   Am I in a dream or on New Mexican mesa
   I see the white rubber mask
   human cries transmuted to "energy"
   Matter still exists. It opens its
   round mouth wide. Generation after
   generation does battle and sinks
   slowly out of sight invoking gods and spirits
   Death's mouth is forced open
   to let such desires and such travail
   burst out—tragic, indignant, injured
   This is the pueblo where the Indians live
   Rivers have dried up. Dust drifts from
   here to there. In my sleep
   I hold up this white rubber mask
   Three black holes confront me
   It laughs. The rubber is thick
   a hard and springy substance
   I know already, before waking
   I will wake in terror
   
   
   
   
   
   
   XUE DI
   trans by Wang Ping and Keith Waldrop