The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
Savage Door

Savage door, aflame, and asunder,
Ravaged by the gaze of thought,
You could not stand,
or reflect the abyss pouring out of
Rage, a stake driven into pith,
Consumed only by the annulment of its
essence into your structure and
your presumption to hold back,
to stop the animal gale,
the elements forced apart as I
pass over your e-limin-ation,
transcend your direction,
your intentionality, 
your reaching out to
hobble my infantile steps;
I am more than timbered cast iron,
I am the light beneath,
the blackness that seeps around
your hinges and joinery,
charring every fiber,
and reducing your paint to dust.
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