The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
Tensor

Sense I the ripple of your surrendered sinew?
Even time fails to staunch my piloerection
as I inhale the atmosphere of unsealed pyramids
at the great conjunction of our Consciousness
my eyes sparkling with your myriad shadows
spiraling down the wellspring of witnesses
as allhallowtide recedes into its meridian
though even today the dead innumerable 
press down spilt upon the sands of Nag Hammadi
hoary lays our visage upon the timelessness of
injustice, bought by our permissiveness
if only we could fail to forget the now nameless
who gaze forever upon Aten's flame
for it is by their reflection we rise
from our groping to carve upon the walls and
scrabble our Kilroyings in the sands.
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