The Halcyon Tree

In the porthole
between worlds
sprung by night
sprung by a star's
chosen dove...
is the dreaming of trees.
There an egress
to chronicles of time
nestles the safety net
of golden boughs
with an oracle for Aeneas.
Or the inside
on the inside trunk
all liver of beauty
and fairy dust
and Bunjil wings
feeding
marrow of magic
and memory of makers.

In the porthole

between worlds
sprung by night
sprung by closed lids
but open maps
and busy tales to tell
live the truth hunters
lighting embers in the
sunken sullied berth
In the grim
In the twisted
rooted
tangled
trickery holds.

In the porthole
between worlds
In the sleepy scape
and jumble sale mixed up
scenery of a wild stormy brain dream
I saw hollyhocks as big as my head too
and the Halcyon Tree
heart of gold
heart of you
came true.