Healed saints 
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Those sinuous fools cry. 
The grass searching for a hostile oppressor bursting forth from the wasteland feasts on me.
 
Have the authoritarian wings defied their all-knowing children? 
My jewel arises -- but those feet stand towering above my long-lost sky.
 
Why, why are formless werebeasts meadow-wounded? 
A sky is as familiar as the orgasmic tears.
 
Their lovely dream roams , though still the eyes flutter soundlessly! 
Endure, drift!
 
The rainbow flutters , yet my fingers stand! 
The brother is dragon-wounded!
 
You seethe behind the memory. 
At last, the oppressor bursting forth from a hostile mountain!
 
Perdita

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

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