The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
Found among Florescences

Humble is the questioning that
fails to sate but leads us into poppy fields
to find the little clovers and thistle crowns
and stub a toe on lost fossilations while
our eyes run the azure rapids of clouds
dissipating like concepts unproved
yet doesn't our valiant milling of sandseeds
proof a bountiful and yeasty loaf?
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