The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
The Allure of Indifference

Perhaps the most lovely aspect of sunsets
is how they mosey along their own trajectory
intimately refulgent and yet unaware of our admiration
some grand unpreened peacock chafing not 
at his mooning maiden nits marooned in their motions

Who then dares raise a swanky crest 
against the blush of titanic cheekbones
bending starlight into tempestuous auroras 
thankfully we garner no attention to beg the errant
thud of footfall as we whip our phaethonic rockets
into cemetaries of the moth-ridden 

Hoping to capture anything in our orbits 
as if ownership could be ontological 
instead of the pretense of ornamentation
for a star casts its power in shadows
and though we may pretend to perceive its grammar
the clockwork but brooks our poor predictions 
and allows us to metabolize within its gyrations

Hiding from the timing of mass ejaculations
under the meagerness of our melanation
wondering at the meaning of sparkling sky veins
unable to mine the prestige of such friendly visits 
left wanting for movements beyond our ken.
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