undercurrent raze rosemary hasn't been well for years. she was told she would never walk again. and here she is. leaving her hospital bed with grey hair that was brown when last she stood. she toggles through strange pads on a synthesizer in search of an organ sound. the tone wheel doesn't control vibrato. it introduces an undercurrent of distortion. it sounds like living feels, she thinks. she hears a man playing accordion from inside a house she knows so well it could almost be her own. she won't let herself wander that way. two boys stare at the scars on her back. a bequest from the car that could have killed her when it turned her bones to tinder. "shoot an eagle in the eye," she says, smirking. she is plush and pliable. no bigger than a breath. and i hold her in my arms. 260315 what's it to you? who go blather from