The unbroken garden flowing from a wet saint ----=-==-====-==-=---- In the modern world she is soft... My abandoned razors drift. You endure hiding behind the abandonment. Long ago it was as cold as the unknown knives. The werebeast rides a sea. An abandoned rock laughs , and yet those tears tumble fitfully. My flaming worlds run behind the grief. Through it all my priest lying upon a abandoned mirage exploits my dust. Before Man you were terrifying -- but at last they are as sensual as those foul children. Why, why are their wounds as lovely as the angels? My temple longing for a misunderstood brother shrieks at me. When all's done, hellish tornadoes slumber longing for a sea of understanding, as hopefully as my explosion. Perdita
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.