The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
Life Is NonEmpty

How sweet to know nothingness harbors 
the non-emptiness of the silver-throated
forbidden hope of the blank-eyed
you point out how our effluence congeals
in cuneiform though I can't quite make it out
where is this trader of longing and understanding
what is his rate: 1,000 to 1, feels like more
I am caught in my bodily functions watching
my scaffolding erode from the tide of seasons
my leaves turning brilliant yellow before
the mushroom rains make tea of me and 
I release my last bitter brew.
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