The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
Of Great Price

Glyphs spire at the forest edge
Last bastions of village life
before the wilderness swallows 
our dreaming in spiralling hollows
gleaming ferrite core to the spin
of ancient magnetisms that reverse
their illusion in weightless moment
of a whittled spindle unable to
escape the impending teleiosis

Orange the lantern glow flickers
from the existentials of breathing
wicked yarn consuming the tallow
of words misspent on theoretic floozies
forbidden harbors from the chill 
as our campfire loosens wild into
the crackling lullaby of annihilation's
child ingrown between the folds
black pearl as paradoxical as proud
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