Monday, August 13, 2012


There's a hidden sweetness
in the stomach's emptiness.

We are all lutes, no more, no less.
If the soundbox is stuffed full of anything, no music.

If the brain and the belly are burning clean
with fasting, every moment a new song comes

out of the fire. The fog clears, and a new energy
makes you run up the steps in front of you.

Be emptier and cry like reed instruments cry.
Emptier, write secrets with the reed pen.

When you're full of food and drink,
Satan sits where your spirit should,

an ugly metal statue in place of the Kaaba.
When you fast, good habits gather like friends

who want to help. Fasting is Soloman's ring.
Don't give it to some illusion and lose your power.

But even if you've lost all will and control,
they come back when you fast, like soldiers

appearing out of the ground,
pennants flying above them.


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