This is written for those who live in fear,
those who disappear and descend in codes,
those who change bones like costumes
to fly and vanish, and reappear.

This is written for those who live in fear,
those who tear themselves in the eye of the needle,
those who die in their own assumptions.

This is written for those who live in the markets,
where fear is bought and sold.
This is not meant to be a projector
showing landscapes, block diagrams,
friends, relatives; not even about
cities where public libraries are worse
than restrooms.

As the wind gathers force,
the words that move like the muscles
in my mouth will efface.
Tongues will be tied to mouths
like shoelaces.

CopyrightŠ 2006, Debashish Haar, All Rights Reserved