The Masked Ball by Greg Boyd

The Masked Ball by Greg Boyd - twenty-two prose poems collected here, each piece accompanied by a Greg Boyd woodcut. Since none of Greg's art is available on the web, I've included the woodcut above that's very much Boyd-ish.

Below are eight of the twenty-two. Over the years, ever since this little book was published back in 1987, I've read and reread these pieces - always a delight. Hope you likewise enjoy.

THE BRIDEGROOM
The father of the bride has the most incredible lips. The look like...if I had a pair of scissors I' be tempted to snip them for an ornament, take them home and put them into a vase: maybe they'd live, perhaps sprout buds which would grow into legs and a torso. I could plant it in a ceramic pot, keep it in my bedroom, away from extremes of temperature and light until the limbs had formed completely. And when the fruit blossomed, fuzzy on the top with new hair, I'd know I made the right choice.

JIGSAW PUZZLE
Striving to assemble for himself the clearest, most beautiful and panoramic view he could, a man worked, traveled, studied, and thought until he had gathered a large selection of many-colored pieces of earth and sky, which he spread out before him like a feast on a table. But try as he would, the pieces only butted horns like angry bulls, clashing without interlocking.
Then a woman appeared with her collection of curves and notches. Together the man and the woman fitted and joined, building and arranging what they shared between them. Trees grew and clouds formed in celebration of their union. Thus they were married, and the woman's womb yielded further pieces: vast sections of pale blue sky and fields of yellow wild flowers.
Now the man stood back from their work to survey the view: he saw that the center was complete, while any trace of a border had vanished...

JOKE
Finding myself in a city of cobblestones and flowers, I wandered to a fountain where transparent red water shimmered with goldfish. A child carrying a sailboat in his arms walked barefoot across the deserted square, climbed the steps, and waded into the pool. Then he stepped into the boat, which sailed toward the melting horizon. Quickly, I plucked the toy from the water. It was empty. Behind me, I heard a child's voice laughing ripples of echo across the square. Turning, I saw the boy, as if through a thick lens, run down a darkened alley into a crack of light in the sky. I ran until my legs ached, my breath hid, my heart screamed, and fell into a black ditch, laughing at the weight of the stars.

THE ENEMY
A man had the ability to change his face to be that of everyone's worst enemy. On any occasion he could become landlord, boss, or bully. Of course this made him popular and successful. Women at parties wet their blouses with drinks when he winked. Business associates shook on bad deals. His wife covered her mouth with her hand as the children began to resemble him.
The game amused him, so he distilled the technique until he could send dogs yelping, tails between legs, with a grin. Because he was everyone's worst enemy, he had no enemies himself. In time he became bored and longed for a challenge. But when he stood before a mirror, his face remained unchanged.

THE MEN WITH THE FIXED EXPRESSIONS
The men with the fixed expressions take the subway and the elevator, the elevator and the subway. The men with the clip-on faces have a date with a jewelry store mannequin before they subway to the suburbs. The instant dinner wives with rubber glove complexions are waiting. "Where is Father?" they beep in unison.
"I've changed the linen on the bed," thinks the wife, smoke pouring from her ears.
Just then, he enters. A loose spring somewhere causes one corner of his mouth to twitch upward slightly.

VISION
A knight-in-shining-amor hires a ladder to fetch a princess down from an ogre's tower, but, because the ladder lacks sufficient sex-appeal, the princess refuses to be rescued. "Have to do her myself," boasts the knight to the impotent ladder, as he polishes his breastplate. So the knight stands at the base of the tower and calls up: "Braid your hair into a rope and I'll climb up for you." But the princess, who had been led by her captor to believe that she would be rescued by a stainless steel escalator, can only weep at the strangeness of the vision.

A TRAIN TRIP
A man takes a train trip with his Self. He buys it sandwiches and sodas from the vendors, offers it a cigarette, points out scenes of interest along the way. Still, he feels embarrassed traveling alone with his Self. A woman with a baby enters the compartment and sits next to him. His Self scrambles back onto his lap. In time the baby becomes restless, and so does the Self. When the woman gives the baby her breast, the man turns away. Reflected in the window, he sees his Self crying.

JUGGLED
A rainy night: My body lumped torn and decapitated in the shadows as the Jester juggled my head and vital organs, putting on a pretty good show for the crowd that had gathered to watch. A few people dropped coins into the hat, chuckling, when he rearranged my facial expression with each successive toss and catch. Others spat on the ground, and swore, or crossed themselves and broke to the rear, mumbling. When he added my sex organs to the whirling mass, a girl with an inflated belly clapped and giggled. Then the rain turned to drizzle and the spectators left, one by one. After they were gone, the Jester tossed his props in a pile and walked away, leaving me face down in the mud, waiting for the dawn.


American author and artist Greg Boyd, born 1957