The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker
Final Draught

The revolving-door-seasons have jumped their pinion
brass-glazed-glass ground to a halt-balking-minion
so creeps in the tide of winter days
and simmers the deciduous dross away
one last feast to seal the famine
one last dream to unexamine 
the ruts of half-forgotten-living 
the counterbalance to summer's grieving
let us drink the Nile into receding
and so piss away our last minutes pleading
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