The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
Watching at the Window

Without rain drops falling
or yellow bricked butterflies
not even squirrels at play
or plump ladybugs glistening
amid rainbow supernovas
sky dance of unsated gazers
birdwatching the fall of
captured orbits perturbed
wondering if a whale will breach
and leave botryoidal eddies
between the krill seive and
the spermaceti lanterns whose
passions burn off into the night 
leaving our eyes underlined in
lampblack and crazed vermilion
where red ochre used to lay
a lost beach brimming round azure 
pools of lacrimotic boredom 
the heart bleeds a noonlike light
between seedquaking furrows
unable to lie down to let 
tomorrow's fishbait feed nor
defenestrate the canon corpus 
that imprisons my evolution
with the flash of the astrological
ransom of sober daydreams
ever holding up duty-eaten lintels.

Will you not carry me over
and into that timeless home
beyond imagined yearnings and
the nash and grind of grizzled 
regrets that forget to remember
if there never was anything worth
saving or hill where a hero may fall
into that postnut clarity that
blossoms in the bloodletting
that begrudgingly fades to a wisp
of soft voicings of mutterings
as ancestral avatars assemble 
on the wallpaper to witness and
etch another starlit flourish
into the expanse of the osmium canopy
fire findings its hearth and 
unbound consummation colored by
the sizzle of verdigrised patinas
as the chorus awakens with resounding
applause amid wide-eyed wandering
before another twilight falls in 
blanketing silence to realign 
the ground to its fulcrum til
gaping receptors may resume 
firing at the dawning horizon
ransom of the ineffable solution
ever unfolding grand dissolution.
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©2025 Mark Daniel Milbocker  All rights reserved.