Re:071635
On Uncalcified Names and Verdicts by Mark Daniel Milbocker

I have always considered the name the noun
an icon of prison-walled verbiage tinged
with a nauseatingly alpha mustard-gas hubris 
though the scientist may endearingly beget
and the philosopher quibble between archetypicals
yet, I accept your positing the necessary
baste stitch of dialectical breathings
that grow crusty and brittle with age
although sometimes persisting in spiral 
ossifications and intuitions offered at
the kitchen table in softly spoken lessons.

Ferrite verbs logjam in the logarithms 
of life's uncoiling-unclenched curvature 
while our testicularly-torsioned laws
lay down a median of conflated ideologies,
justice lost between cellphone videos
and the unwoven nucleics of abandoned fluids
placed between tensioned walls for a time
or forever or exiled to a foreign shore
so rarely dispensing Solomon's mercy to
the apoplectic caught in its web still
in shock from the anglerfish strobe while
the gawking collect their Ebay cockles
unaware of the tide receding from the shore.

A temporary respite peers over the edge
upon the intermingling spheres of oceans
swelling with krill-clouds whaled away
by baleen verdicts stretching the helix
to form new muscle-memory-mitochondria
and trade the starkness of final
punctuation for gentled silications
that heal to less common opal
trauma-crazed yet full of colorplay
such reveals the folly of grading the
slippery into sugar sprinkle beans
that germinate where none are looking
to balance the scale that topples outward
without benediction or beatification
just the demure conjuring of a dying lover
held in a moment of devotion hoarded, 
demanding Time cease its proclamations 
and grant the borrowing breast a stay
of semicolon and allow the gerunds to
complete their midnight consummation,
an unhurried tear's kiss, and the 
exhumation of tomorrow's child's 
unanticipated expectations.