Still hammer at the foundry,
the red-hot iron pounded,
tongs in hand, to forge
a form of voice and glyph
that speaks what Saga sayeth:
with the eye of Milton made,
with the bones of Blake invibrate,
with the speech of Shakespeare
warped to wyrd of Bragi's craft,
Ymir laid out upon the anvil :
blood and bones and breath make world.
Blood and bones and breath make world.