Odin Wolf’s Wail
Vera ulfa daemi nú knáttu Óðin sjá
In the fashion of wolves Odin though now shalt see
For the night has come fast ―― behold the royal owl
He alone knows the truth ―― death’s taste, blood scent and wine
“In the fashion of wolves” ―― it befits us to howl
Fresh tracks in mauve, breath’s speed ―― the woman is supine
Daemonae have woken ―― while iron reason sleeps
Dead al-Khwárizmí dreams ―― his calculations pause
For the grass is thinner ―― Lethe into the sea sweeps
White numbers and symbols ―― sun-born under earth laws
And among ourselves speak ―― blessings to the full moon
Like dark hounds of the hunt ―― a prayer in math old
Transposed runes on stones grey ―― half buried in some dune
Across wastes so grim rides ―― the master’s black pack bold
Foul is the sign, winged eyes ―― vision when sleeps Logos
Give us tálar dísir ―― the Goddesses baneful
And we will mount the moth ―― to Asgard set our claws
Sharpen our teeth, spread fear ―― and the fickle fates rule
We ride with him, Godspeed ―― the fallen by the sword
Nourished by the aether ―― in ebonite spirit
“Odin though now shalt see” ―― draw near to me, form word
What wounds me is rigid ―― what heals me is unlit
Then the woman rises ―― a hero will come soon
The day becomes the night ―― bearable in rune light
Sounds of long lost words ―― illuminating moon
She is the sweet caress ―― a ghostly love’s delight
Deep are tracks in the snow ―― and quiet is the ice
Death stalks reason, teases ―― life is a game of knives
Woman to keep you warm ―― sleep mind, let lust entice
Abandon sense, trust love ―― none knows the length of lives
For the hunter’s mark burns ―― pain into marrow deep
I thought the woman’s death ―― like lines in marble carved
Is distant, measures wide ―― Dís refuses to weep
For the world is hallow ―― and my tired soul is starved.
January 17-19, 2014