¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨                                          §¨¨§§¨§¨¨§
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨§                                          §¨§¨§§§¨§§
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨§¨                                          §§§§¨¨§§¨§
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨§§§                                          ¨¨¨§¨§¨§§§
¨¨¨¨¨¨§¨¨§                                          ¨¨§§§§§¨¨§
¨¨¨¨¨§§¨§¨ i follow the tire  tracks west.  they go ¨§¨¨¨¨§¨§§
¨¨¨¨§¨§§§¨ parallel with  the  railroad,  with  its §§¨¨¨§§§¨§
¨¨¨§§§¨¨§¨ endless  mirrors looking  kinda oily. an ¨§¨¨§¨¨§§§
¨¨§¨¨§¨§§§  incredible power bound there... there's §§¨§§¨§¨¨§
¨§§¨§§§¨¨¨ a wire fence  to separate the two roads. ¨§§¨§§§¨§§
§¨§§¨¨§¨¨¨                                          §¨§§¨¨§§¨§
§§¨§¨§§¨¨¨ even  though there's a foggy quality  to §§¨§¨§¨§§¨
¨§§§§¨§¨¨¨ the air, the path i  follow  is glowing. ¨§§§§§§¨§§
§¨¨¨§§§¨¨¨ a  yellow-green  moss  has   taken  hold §¨¨¨¨¨§§¨§
§¨¨§¨¨§¨¨¨ where  the  machines   who   made  these §¨¨¨¨§¨§§¨
§¨§§¨§§¨¨§ tracks once disturbed the  clover field. §¨¨¨§§§¨§§
§§¨§§¨§¨§§                                          §¨¨§¨¨§§¨¨
¨§§¨§§§§¨¨ we're  off  the  season when  the  birds §¨§§¨§¨§¨§
§¨§§¨¨¨§¨§ sing  beautifully.  these days it's just §§¨§§§§§§§
§§¨§¨¨§§§¨      screeches, or calls for help.       ¨§§¨¨¨¨¨¨¨
¨§§§¨§¨¨§§                                          §¨§¨¨¨¨¨¨§
§¨¨§§§¨§¨¨ i  think  of   the  jackdaw   i   maimed §§§¨¨¨¨¨§§
§¨§¨¨§§§¨§   yesterday. i fear the dreaming gate.   ¨¨§¨¨¨¨§¨¨
§§§¨§¨¨§§§                                          ¨§§¨¨¨§§¨§
¨¨§§§¨§¨¨§                                          §¨§¨¨§¨§§¨
¨§¨¨§§§¨§¨                                          §§§¨§§§¨§¨
§§¨§¨¨§§§§                                          ¨¨§§¨¨§§§¨
¨§§§¨§¨¨¨§                                          ¨§¨§¨§¨¨§§