The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
River Crafting

The sole solemn truth is
that no rule may span 
more than a humble majority
and though we may dream ardently
there is nothing atomic to
float our sinking assumptions,
for such buoyancy requires 
the syrup of neutron stars 
or at least the eye of Newt-
onian magic that leaves us
driving boxy cars on blacktop-
crusted earth where even the
clouds cry an oily fog and
eagles have no place to land
or hunt among the wolverines.
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