Atomic bomb drill
A Tom Bombadil
Bombastic iconoclast
Living out with animals on the fringes
Scraping a living off the lichened stones
Living on a blasted heath like witches
A rock fissure in a forgotten God’s likeness
Once gladgiven blood rivered over riveting its contours
A wand a rod of Rowan waved for Nodens
Outliving all animal life the stones
Older than old
Displaced in the retreating cold of ice ages
Mayhem and waves which pawed at the sky’s hem
Seeking vengeance and communion with dead men at henges
The creaking hinges of my head, the avenger standing over my bed.
Alchemisland 
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