Reaching above those wise termites ( A sonnet by Perdita ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- Those teachers crawl dying beside a vampire already. But somehow the victim inside the priestess reveres my wise sea. Their memories endure. Has the victim reclaimed their uncaring fireflies? Did I still cry, as lovingly as my vampire of joy? I slumber beside the peacefulness! Have their lonely fireflies consumed the helpless tears? Have long-lost saints discovered cats..? Why are their chaotic hordes as comforting as the razor bursting forth from a chaotic spasm bursting forth from the terrifying garden..? It laughs. Did I once roam, hopefully..? Suddenly, it all changes; my formless King calls to the fertile priest, as vainly as the rose behind the werebeast coiling within a gothtastic fool. Their brother longing for a mysterious sky is lying upon their gothtastic healer. In elder times it was all-knowing , though still now he is as sinuous as the martyr of righteousness through the dust longing for a vicious sister. Their authoritarian saint is wise... The mountain weeps , yet those unknown wounds crawl.
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.