The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
The Null Postulate

I know not of annihilation
or the possibility of cancellation
for even the mirror casts a sad facsimile
and gemini a fallacy of mental economics
for though our charge may equilibrate
the quality of our mass defies equation
insures matching wavefronts shall scatter
unseen serpents to spiral the eddies that
pock the decay of this temporal inclusion 
to speak in unwilling metaphors as if 
our eyes could do more than assemble 
epiphenomenal approximations and then
construct words from our dna to point
obtusely in their direction

No, I fear not the cryptid doppelganger
who lurks behind doors and the bedpost
valance of drunken orbitals that lase
like lighthouses in the night some
strange ball lightning that fails to
dissipate into an illusion or get
rounded off by poorly shod mathematicians
who posit unfirm fermionic demons 
who ascend the crevasse to nibble on 
juicy cherub toes, foddlequatch!

It only takes a moment for the pupil 
to relax into the teachings of the book
of nature, beneath the nest of sequoias
where mushrooms luminescence in novel colors
and spiders build lattices between 
days and nights spent beetling beneath
souring tree feathers and fallen seed;
here, tea is a tannic tonic few can
stomach to leave pristine and 
unmolested by waves of explaining,
desperate to prove understanding 
where none has been requested and 
intentions are but a simple syrup solution
while narcotic nectars drip unsipped.
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