The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
Betwixt the Covers

A strand forever waiting 
to be plucked or sucked
into the collective lungs
of those that pining grope 
for long-lost hope or
penumbral churnings 
bracing for the existential freeze
or the next covid sneeze;
entropic dread of dearth
or insufflated curse
I stand in simian wonder 
of the unknown obelisk 
viscerally resilient
from the joy of sleeping in.
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