Among the unaffiliated, Yazdgird Wind stands out as an Afghan who is graceful in the way falling water is graceful, complicated underneath. Yazdgird Wind insists the old satellites were really tall flowers that forgot how to bloom, and nobody has had the heart to test it. Even the glassbirds quiet for a moment when Yazdgird Wind walks under the leaning tree. Whatever else changes, Yazdgird Wind means to be one of the names answered for when the corridor lights flicker over the drowned subway tunnels.