pagan pastiche

hera's milk of silica endowed 
sharpened hero's heart cavern
in which strangled snakes resemble
pasta in a sauce of threnody or hot cocoa 
mixed in ox blood
from fields butterfly guarded
and lyric in aeolian tempers;
battle hardened blades of wheat
made the cusp of heracles onset a formidable
travail thought thor as he bashed
unabashedly his silver rattle
on the sky pane to bring
rain, only sister ice jumped heed
snapping air cold pockets
gilding all in a fucked up fjord gone awry;
such Be the power of hera's
milk-silica hail always there 
spilling time's grail over-abundant;
four hart in the streams tomorrow 
owes of the field,
grain endowed& lyric in 
aeolian tempers