This wonderful moment, the taste of nothing, in the company of the poor and the empty.
Sit with Bestami, not some fortune-teller. There are more than two holidays a year. We celebrate a birthday and a solstice every second.
Newborns, we need fresh bread. Life grows from the dead, as the living get led into death.
Dry branches go to the fire
as green limbs bend to the ground with fruit.
Pleasure fills a mother’s breast. Put your mouth there and suck. You must.
I have made many elegant speeches to the assembly. Now it is time to walk outside and be quiet.
Shams draws me to words, then two days of silence.
Adam A. Azim 