The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
The Unentelechic Conquistador

Tall trunk ripples taut 
arm outstretched to sling prey
over his brood-shouldering spine
slouching with long-toothed-regret
blurred by the boredom of hunger
a young-buck-game waxed rote
endless serpent swallowing
a zoetropic beat swelling to 
an absent catharsis bloating 
sinking sagging shifting horizons
leaving the dream of shores distant 
to the uneasy lay of early hours
too tired to quest or scratch at
the witching of actuality near
the choreographed grave and 
elegy-laminated prayer cards for
sons sent off to war and 
daughters well endoweried wed;
there are no words left to spill
upon companions waiting by the fire
as a lone shiver walks up the vertebral
for winter is worn more than weighed
since springtimes ceased and the
strength of summer slipped into an
autumnal stupor where shadows no longer
turn an eye to anticipate but lean 
into tenor chant, harmony falling
into the monotone coincidence of 
a thousand generations nameless and 
waiting to conquer the plagal-cadent 
with the inexorable vacuum of potential.
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