¨-«†*%#@##                                          ##@#%*†«-¨
¨¨¨¨¨-«*%@                                          @%*«-¨¨¨¨¨
¨-«†*%#@##                                          ##@#%*†«-¨
¨-«†*%#@##                                          ##@#%*†«-¨
¨¨¨¨¨¨«*%#                                          #%*«¨¨¨¨¨¨
¨--««*%### 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.   ####%*†«-¨
¨-«†*%#@##                                          ##@#%*†«-¨
¨¨¨¨¨-††*#                                          #*††-¨¨¨¨¨
¨-«†*#@###                                          ###@#*†«-¨
¨-«†*%#@##                                          ##@#%*†«-¨
¨---«†%%##                                          ##%%†«---¨