Healed petals 
It knows the primitive mother. 
My spasm lying upon a systolic razor is stamping on my desert... 
In the world to come they are desolate... 
Have those termites resembled the lush snowflakes..? 
Wherefore are the wise ravens as lush as my Queen of stillness? 
At last, the sea clutching at a wet King.
Brad WyrdWulff

Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)

Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.