The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
The Entering

nerves frayn by 
traumas of frustrations
not my own or toiln borne
and burdened be 

weary my swollen receptors
recoil from lost ligands
spent yearnings for
the equilibrial

gentle hand on my shoulder
beckons to a smoldering slumbering
perambulation of the
once-angry air, earth, and stars

thusly I enter
Us.

Humming mellifluous edenistic idylls
of the now-virginally achromatic
tabula rasa of the dimensionless
mind the caesura, then begin
the chirping of the pastoral
siren luring our hunterthal lizard
ganglia to the metamerics of the
chimeric firefly dragons that
catch our awe and gaping gaze
amidst the night and sunfree
hours where the softness of
our membranes swells open our 
cauliflower[1] eyes.
■





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