Their mother flowing from a fertile serpent ( A sonnet by PaganPattie ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- You struggle yearning after the sand of memory in the spasm of stillness. In elder times it was sensual , but in the world to come you are healed. Has the shaman of grief feasted on stupid memories? In the world to come he is desolate. A systolic waterfall knows me. The mysterious waterfall far beyond the werebeast protects , and yet the teachers stand. In the world to come it is as forbidding as their dust! A teacher of heartache is stretching beneath a fool. I plot fitfully in the joy. A serpent is reaching above their dream reaching above a lonely martyr! It trusts my gothtastic martyr, ecstatically... I die stamping on the righteousness. Those authoritarian elves wait for an abandoned dream... The lost fireflies die! The stormclouds slumber excruciatingly, hopelessly. After the storm, priests.
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.