The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
Adriftagenic

Were we to drift the cosmos
like some planetary rail gun fodder
we would fall between the gravity wells
arms-crossed-chin-down aslip through time
we the wingless yet extend our antennae 
to apprehend without grasping the weight of
the green flush of redder planetoids
lucky motes congealed from the grease water
of the popped-now-fizzing animation that
syncopates a less violet song of dynaclysms
and the infrared glow of baleine-pocked-pelagia
serenading the krill-hued-apatite whose orbit
circumambulates with a low hum so long gentle
now ablaze in a trinititic afterglow
that expels the spore-hearted germplasm
amid the solar winds who forever banter
about their prospective destinations
unaware of the hitchhiking of haboobs.
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©2024 Mark Daniel Milbocker  All rights reserved.