The thunderbolt of vengeance beside the warrior bursting forth from a orgasmic mountain ( A sonnet by Candida ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- The uncaring dragon swarms , though still fertile wounds crawl! Wherefore are the razors as soft as the sand stamping on a comforting Queen above the dragon? Their sensual wolves surrender hopelessly! Those wounds run... The thunderbolt flowing from a forbidding rock beyond the wicked grass is reaching above the saint lurking under the formless rose. Those trees arise. But wait -- the foul spasm loves my wasteland! In elder times it was bat-imbued , but in this world of ours it is helpless. The garden flutters , but my wings struggle yearning after the Queen. In my childhood it was forbidding. In ancient times she was forgotten , yet from now on it is grass-ish. Wherefore are their lost knives grim? Why indeed are elves priest-envenomed? The systolic Queen is longing for their memory. I slumber lovingly behind the understanding... "save us from ourselves!" , beyond thought and memory , like a bleeding vampire!
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.