The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
The Fall

I awoke amid the zephyrs
atop the clouds and cliffs,
sweet dew upon the behaired
peaks of my cringed toes,
turned torso unfolding to the
precariousness 
of this precipice.

Yawny blossom outstretched,
leaning into my back to
breathe in the clouds
and the petrichor pallor
of dawn's early kiss.

The unstirred eye flushes
as the singular sanguine surge
cascades through cold corpuscles.

Ready 
to slalom 
the vivicolored slopes of 
downy dopamine.
■





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