The rise of the morning dew, The stillness of the walkers few Her name was Andromeda, Not like the constellation she said, It has no meaning you're just walking with a friend We talk about the leaves and the road, As our feet step here and there Going to no where in particular She'd tilt her head and stare at me But when I looked at her To be sure, she was looking forward or elsewhere I can't explain it. Looking down at the gravel, our shoes, tip tap Noting the dark hue of the rising sun and this, and that Yet the whole time she was not talking at all but Looking straight at my face, I swear I felt her observing everything there was to observe, So I'd glance at her sideways in-between words To find her again looking forward it was so weird

the scapegoat eeks, you can hear him from the attic, "eerk" "meerg" "eerk" his name is Zolaf, he goes by Zolaf, and he was born no good. go away, they tell Zolaf. we are talking, they scream in a whisper go away, they tell Zolaf no you can't be here, they scream in a whisper go away, they say go away, they say so Zolaf stays in the attic, even though he grows tall and big, becomes a hunchback so as not to punch a hole on the roof nibbles grand meals stolen at night from the fridge nibbles and smiles and claps in awe with triangular teeth through the hole on the ceiling claps and claps and claps for his kinling, Dulan, Mulan, Julam they are good at things he is not good at they can speak good they are arti- cu-late they can speak prettily, smoothily, prettily muchest munch Zolaf in that attic meerg - eerg - meerg

Trembling through the silicone vignette of your vision, the roots remain breathless to offer retribution, But you're here, I know you are It's the Roots, up in Wisconsin, and the one I left behind What happened? I saw a skewed branch on a frail tree, when I stumbled, it could not breathe To my profound surprise, the fear i felt was mine