The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
In the Crucible

Between the hardnesses
of garnet clawed pinions
a monopole floats between 
magnetic moire rings in 
the superconductance of the moment
waxing into focus while
the spheres fall silent
a rising subharmonic resonance
pulses into a carbide scream
casting shadows into the cracks
like some patronum cast against
the plumbum of mediocrity
electrodes struck together in
a crackling shower of sparks
consuming what remains of our 
atavistic carbon carapace
bursting into swollen membranes
ejected in long silken streams
of heavy condensates falling 
into orbits or rain puddles
muddling quartz spires 
into milky sands and the
stillness of oases where we
may skinnydip in the electric blue
salty astringence that hardens
our comprehension so our convergence
may gather more gravities into
our escapement to bloom again
whenever scylla does bite.
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