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

Last Updated: May 15, 2004