Did satisfaction keep you warm
As you hung, old man?
Arranger of all
Tasting the grin victory
Of death before death
Did you sup
On depressive poetry
As you saw the tunes
Knowing you'd done it?
Did you hang with
Your spear in your hand
Dedicating yourself
To yourself
And knowing
No one else would get
The satisfaction
Of killing you
For the first time
What's it like to die, wise one?
What's it like to choose to say goodbye?
When Yggdrasil’s arms
Supported your throat
A threat and embrace
AR once
Did you find poetry?
Or feel it?
What did you see,
All-Father?
What did you see?
A poem to set you free?
Whose name hung with you
Caught in your throat when it snapped?
We're Memory and Thought
Carrion birds
To your corpse?
Did you have to die?
Or did you want to?
Was ever there such a thing
As a sane poet?