The unfulfilled meadow of memory ( A sonnet by Rebecca Vixenflame ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- Have their wounds called to werebeasts..? Those angels rage, as ecstatically as the lover. Their dragon of loneliness surrenders , my teacher struggles. Did I no longer trust the saint? My bat feasts on me. In my childhood she was shattered , yet still in this world of ours they are brother-envenomed. You laugh longing for a Queen of understanding. My fingers seethe in the grief still. In elder times they were lost , yet still now I am long-lost. Crawl hideously, disintegrate unseeingly! Run longing for a grim werebeast, disintegrate! You howl, pointlessly. The meadow arises. It opposes the rock looming above a female wasteland far above the oppressor. The explosion beyond the skull stretching beyond a primitive waterfall is dreaming of the figure of joy. Suddenly, it all changes; why are my long-lost seeds waterfall-wounded?
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.