A saint flowing from a lush lover 
----=-==-====-==-=---- 
A priestess extinguishes my sky of joy! 
The knives howl terrifyingly, restlessly. 
Why, why are the elves foul? 
The desert stretching beyond a sinuous werebeast behind the serpent dreaming of a unknown sister exploits me. 
Did I so recently laugh? 
In the garden, after the rain.
 
Brad WyrdWulff