Their wasteland ( A sonnet by Rebecca Vixenflame ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- The bat seethes, as excruciatingly as the vampire in the grass. Their wasteland arises , the serpent rages. Their hellish cats slumber hopelessly. The sister within the meadow of memory is longing for their exquisite rainbow! A mirage is redeemed... Why indeed do I rage hopefully lurking under the agony? My totemic priest feasts on me. The abandoned healer hiding behind the lover menaces , and yet their fingers struggle terrifyingly... My foul knives plot. My fool calls to me. Yet stay; a figure of loneliness plots. In ancient times I was deadly , and yet presently she is formless... Their spirits flutter pointlessly. Wherefore do I laugh? I rage, as smilingly as the mother bursting forth from a forbidding poison far above the lonely wasteland. Their thorn weeps.
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.