ReRites (Forms Spent)

And emptied into its surface, I used to speak. I heard the forgotten smoke, and the voice of death. The night is a long silent moon rising and the air is immovable, intrinsic motion awake within a Self-Unseeing wildly repulsive quixotic tribe of clouds Your Pleasures enthrall me, let me die. Kindle the carpet, while the sun drives along the highway at night. The moon is a dead trembling land being broken by applause. the dead story receives the re- sistance of the flesh They devoured her fur with universal plucked silent inverted slices of wind. Forms Spent in the living fainting gate of abandoned uncurled stars.