The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
Addled Leaves

I
Long and lugubrious is the credendo
of shadows from a crescent moonbeam
dripping from the grasping bark of
swamp cypresses mossy yet illuminated
by stories of will-o'-wisps.

A promise lies here, and the 
smell of lumbering morning breath
unsealed by the yawn of a sleepy tomb.

II
Never has the sky been so concerned
with those under its blanket and 
the disheveling of esoteric anthills.

For zombie moths do not speak,
they cling silently to dark walls
and listen for the drip drop 
of far away nectars that glitter.

So also parables lie pinned between pages
only to flower in their turning 
into caterpillar coherence that
munches away at our reflective foliage.
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