dawning

and you thought that eight faces were hard to lead.  imagine the reflection of thousands and the knot in the middle.  the strings pull them in one or tow or three at a time.  conducting the ebb and flow of personalities in the temporal space of being.  and as i pull them in and pull on their masks I am thrown into the world and land splattered across the surface of things.  it would be a mistake to think, it would be an error to assume, it's goggles that I wear.  as if lenses alone could change the texture of care.  it perhaps is also incorrect to call them masks, but no body wants to step into an other's body completely.  we don't want to lose some sense that self isn't important enough to be a least partially permanent.  my legs and arms and core, flesh things that anchor me in space.  but the posture matches the mask, the movements are permeated by the face shaping and no mistake making I am always falling in and out from one to the other.  This is a tangled web I tread that's made of my own devices: contradiction and contingency.