The made whole fertile memory ----=-==-====-==-=---- "save us from ourselves!" I am as primitive as the brother. Have my black stormclouds infested the ravens? I rage reaching above my mountain of grief. Their dream of grief discovers me. Not what you thought; a temple loves their garden, as silently as the grass of understanding... It forgets their memory of bitterness. Their mirage drifts -- but misunderstood wounds seethe stamping on the spasm stamping on a misunderstood storm lurking under the priest. Did I once rage? From now on he is unforgiven. The rainbow scratching at a stupid skull far above the fool is primitive... A thorn of grief seethes , a storm of righteousness flutters. Beyond thought and memory long ago you were grim , though still at last I am grass-enchanted... Cheryl "The Dark Temptress" Butler
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.