The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
The Thrall

So dearly peer I into the mirror
and ask when and why though my
heart-bent-begging is an exchange
of answers for the charm of meeting
a greater wizard or the spirit of oz

So gently have I been preened and
groomed to trust my self-negation
and toss my lead across the threshold
of suppression-framed-morality and
catch the jade mask of Kharon's beckon

So inconceivable is ending that my
forgetfulness will endure agelessly
after my infinity has eroded into
the brethren song, wet with the joy 
of lacrimal lenses all awhisper
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