the Wild Hunt

fohn wind hard licks the wild hunt erupting
vultures drop, motionless, shadows disrupting
   moonlit groves, armies of faeries
   thrashing acorns as tornadoes carry us

down stark roads over homes wrongful built,
for hearth-fires wodan keeps, unwise wood split
   undoing the road and what's come before
   and that which was known, once before sworn

dandy dogs hunting, stay on your steed
to touch ground when godan hunts; ashes guaranteed,
   our tender feet march not that fohn wind,
   rises hot focus up mountains sharp grin

   cutting god's ice beard, the spray off blood hooves;
   red roaming ghost kings, all sensible move