The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
Grackleraspy

Tell me, do you enjoy the grin
or the guffaw of my situation
amid the ash sticks and oaks
rejoindering with salty climes
and absent rhymes heady with
alabaster intoxication that drowns
this famished existence
amid the cycling of syllablizings
apples fall mushily from the tree
of life and limb on which I
kneel among scintillations for
the ultraviolet milieu to dawn
into eddies of auroras unexplored?
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