Do no harm.
  Leave the war-plane frame of reference
       to other puzzle pieces.
We are naked.
We are not.
We are not certain of which
         monologue to begin.
So we chant in
       unified panting
         etching legends
          out of rhymes.
Do no harm.
    Do no harm.
It matters now that the growing telephones
          are charged like neglected
         poisons of dampening redials.
Truth is gaining wisdom like
         groups of formatted crosses
           jumping like splinters
          of margarine jars.
We are naked.
We are not.
We are one with living and prepared
          for the drying of the hands.
Clean me up and leave me outside.
Sun gone but wind remaining.
Do no harm.
    Do no harm.
      Do no harm.