The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
Jam-Eyed

How is a recluse to know
his own wrappings or who speaks
when everything is an open mouth
swallowing everything is an
open mouth swallowing
subtlety lost to the unmanic
who see in but three colors 

no, isolation is an orgy of 
unquenchable narcissism where
the inbred copulate in their own 
womb, warm buttery lattice
holding up so little knowledge of
a land with no footholds where
abysses bear a trite turbidity
and philosophers are licked in
sticky raspberry jams and sugared
until they can take no more
an oscillation between discipline
and unfettered laughter at the
curtainfall of verity's debut?
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©2024 Mark Daniel Milbocker  All rights reserved.