Behind the masks with faces of witches
the religion of the rich and ambitious
passed over me in one hundred waves
of not breathing and not knowing
where I am or what will save me
from the masks of the big
covering the piggishly little.
From the inside of dry flaming masks
drink in the liquor of the environment
plaid, staid and modeled by knaves
narrow margins and hardly growing
found straightjacketed in an encyclopedia
showing the big masks
hiding the little heads.
Within the head of the big lab coat
doctors treat the most amenable patients
installing instincts for buttons and dials
while all the rejects are found following
the unsubtle prophets around the equator
shaking spears and masks
much paint concealing noises.
Drivers shielded by pretty masks while
little ones walk into the paths of speeding
automobiles designed for big, big comfort
in a lumping together of archaic and old
as if as if nothing ever changed
as if each big mask
parented many little masks.
I put on my small head a mask of the big
the faces on it were fertilizer and formaldehyde
its shape did not conform and I would not either
it was not as heavy as I thought, nor as hollow
as I walked and talked it would not stay steady
so the mask of the big fell off
and I was not the only one.
The select astronauts hundreds of them
were circling the earth in tinsel boxes
at xmas they lit up and advertised cocarocka
masking the muscular accomplishments of history
we looked away and the world
was little and healthy
and we could see what it was.