§§¨¨§¨§§§¨                                          ¨¨¨¨§§¨§§¨
¨§¨§§§¨¨§§                                          ¨¨¨§¨§§¨§§
§§§¨¨§¨§¨¨                                          ¨¨§§§¨§§¨§
¨¨§¨§§§§¨¨                                          ¨§¨¨§§¨§§¨
¨§§§¨¨¨§¨¨                                          §§¨§¨§§¨§¨
§¨¨§¨¨§§¨¨ 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.   §§¨¨¨§¨§¨§
¨¨§§§§¨§§§                                          ¨§¨¨§§§§§¨
¨§¨¨¨§§¨¨¨                                          §§¨§¨¨¨¨§¨
§§¨¨§¨§¨¨¨                                          ¨§§§¨¨¨§§¨
¨§¨§§§§¨¨§                                          §¨¨§¨¨§¨§§
§§§¨¨¨§¨§§                                          §¨§§¨§§§¨§