drumming circle  another group of those : half humans : burnt by the Pulse : possibly made mad : by the pain : have surrounded our camp : i’m angry at myself : i didn’t even know we were being followed : perhaps the winery…

Deep in the woods with the moon at its peak The goblins come out to creep Along the river on paths of moss Tiptoeing past where naiads sleep They clamber over long dead ents And flee the wolf-men’s tents To gather at the Coyote’s Fang…

There’s A Gathering   There must be a place; Above or not . . . Where they gather. The ones who left us. Some we say . . . “Too Soon”… And some we say, “had a long life.” Are they here? I’ve seen them…