Slam Free or Die poetry event
Affixing his creation to his face
he masks his native countenance of skin.
A shaman’s visage veils the commonplace,
allowing what was buried to be seen.
He disinters the shrouded Harlequin
from deep beneath the strata of control,
and brushes off the savage chained within—
the feral face—the prehistoric soul.
This artificial front made up for show
unbinds instinct and cages forged restraint.
It makes the masked essence corporeal,
this paradox of leather brow, of paint,
of pulp and paste: he holds his guise concealed
and hides himself, that he may be revealed.