“Man is as God but God is not as Men.”
-Abigail Dornen

hollow tree
how you are so alike me
but not i you.

In my visions you are an ingot of fired iron shot up through the fertile must of earth, and
my fingerbones delve into that same earthself and ride the tunnel down.
The underworld has many entrances.
A ring of toppled Alders overtaken by ghostcolored tribes of Oyster mushrooms, at its
hub the Cedar
Whose lightning-burnt husk’s inner side bears a calligraphy of mudcrack char
Swirling in the dank of molds and cinder,
Skullwound roots which thirstless cause the creek to curdle,
Motes glooming in the goblin light.
How like a wavering jellyfishy dragon, the slit in your side a bloodless welcoming wound
and i a rocking chair infection come to call
I call with sparks begging at the sills of the sky
Entotemed, chanting
Turn him into honey, cure him into mead
Tree you mark the dawn entry to the tomb.

Come in to where it is burnt silverblack and dreamworn
These wheels cannot deliver me
Burrow, hunting cave, tank, sleek-skinned emptied animal, trunk, bellows,
birthing organ:
Live now inside of me.
No mothers are allowed here.
Inside a fire licks and licks and licks and dooms the better me to ash, a fire which i did
light with the world astraddle my hand
The branches all laid down
The king beneath his crown
And all the faeries gone to bed.

A ceremony is underway
I its name
Its length lifelong and no shred more.

I’m a man and thou a tree
Helix locked beneath of me
When i’m in you and you in me
We bed the world in towering glee
So all this soured mind aside
With me within and you astride
The world doth rock and shiver its collar while
Together we twist and hoot and holler.

Poem by ocean.

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