The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
Zoological

What strange beasts are colors
and the shapes we wear as we
shimmer from moment to moment
in the syrupy pour of our glass lives
admiring the chatoyancy of fur and feather
as ardently as we excavate chests of
antiquities from the sands of geode vaults 
under the wadi wetwork of jungled riverbanks
and the juiciness of eden's orchard 
or the mucky decks below noah's bark
whether the hummingbird's bath or
the whalespray of the spermaceti-laden,
we are hipdeep in the organic menagerie
staring through rhombohedral feldspars
and imaging asterisms to distract from
the caprice of our quixotic theorizing
or conceptual groping of earthen 
vessels with fishnet veins pulsating
as our primordial pool recedes 
back into the sun's cloudwork 
and we sip from our tadpole motility
the amino brew of forgotten vulcanisms
that once glowed with yellow-hot pyroclasty
cast into brimstone molds or crucibles
to one day hatch into the many-legged
who burnish the deserts into black forests
bedecked in acorns and leaf foil
and the garish adornments of the procreating
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