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Tuesday, January 02, 2018
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
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