The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
At the Boundaries

Are we not a different oyster
Encrusting our shell 
in knic-knack conceptuals
Each an epiphanic sparkle of spacetime
the spongy xylem that spirals
Worked out in expressionistic 
strokes of failed soots, 
that primordial oil that spawns
rainbows at the right angle,
Our mountains of concretions 
overgroaning fault lines
quake or wake up child ardor
Wondering at the sulphur spewing
lemon puff pastries ovenfresh
blueberried and cinnamon swirling
Watching the fantastic four
at the edge of the cathode tube
Let us paint frames upon each
vision and catalog our comicbooks
for we are the michaelangelo of
our sculpted terminations and
fancy ourselves banksies hanging
price or is it toe tags on each
passing pearl that has so
inflamed our gentle membranes
Let us forget the black edges
and swing off into the canopy!
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