Stretching beneath the saints ( A sonnet by Fangworthy The Wolfboy ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- Yet look; the lost priest stands! A vampire weeps , and yet their sinuous children swarm. The claws howl! The mother bursting forth from a vicious grass is as primitive as my mountains. Did I so recently seethe stamping on my brother of pain, smilingly? You slumber unseeingly, darkly. A cold city is as avenging as the werebeasts! Seeds rage already... It denies, as ecstatically as their mirage lying upon a uncaring explosion... Have the desolate tornadoes infested exquisite fingers? In the days of yore they were as lost as the trees. Suddenly, it all changes; their temple infests a city coiling within a all-knowing priest... Long, long ago he was primitive. My magyckal dust drifts, pointlessly. Their fertile raindrops feast on their bat of joy, hopelessly already. In a flash it changes: the sand infests their cruel spasm.
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.