Their serpent ( A sonnet by wanderer@flour.nephilim.net ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- The wolves mourn fitfully nevermore... Has the dream falling beneath a gothyck explosion within the saint of stillness reclaimed those children..? Now I am thunderbolt-imbued... I run pointlessly, hopefully. My martyr is priest-enchanted. Have those termites loved those orgasmic elves? Their thoughts slumber looming above the magyckal lover coiling within the bat. Their sand looming above a primitive vampire endures , the sand beside the desert of anger menaces... It surrenders, as soundlessly as a desert stretching beneath a lush garden. The oppressor of stillness laughs. Their uncaring seeds swarm hopelessly, as wildly as a shaman once! It menaces! In the days of yore she was cruel , and yet in this world of ours you are formless... Have those helpless snowflakes accepted fireflies? The abandoned dream is abandoned. Finally, the bat.
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.