The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
Coexisting with Sanity

Not sure if its the chaos or the sobriety
that evokes drunken voices but I rest easy
having discovered that tripswitch under my pannus
that hangs up the telephonics of the analytical
part of the mind stewed in verbalities 
ever collecting and categorizing with a fetish for naming
stimming with a multiplicity of forged concepts
ever congratulating my wit with compulsions
this is the darkness within which to play
far better the whimsy of pantomime 
decorating the plowshare in posies and rings around
the posies and rings around the supposed
axioms of dogma and convention that plague our
gatherings of whodunit on bloody carpets
acreak with raconteurs - flip!
there it is and my sumi-e floods into spectral light
soaks expressionistic pencil scrawlings into
graphite clouds whose eyes sparkle argentine
freed from ennui and setting solitary tea parties
my midas mind paints in glitter glue and rhinestones
laughing at each utterance as a punchline
wait, that telltale cackling ascribe I to 
that lonely accountant who quibbles with life's grammar
not my harlequin raving that passes the night 
until I breakfast and measure the salt on my eggs
awaiting the arrival of the tax bill.
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