The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
The Probability of Order

I can't quite hear the probable-contextual-order
though my brethren remind me daily of its dogma
as they choke on their sated silken doilies
and burp out an alphabet of foolish prophecies 
ardent in the apparent apparitions, I pay no mind

Yet I will press my eye against the illusion
mime the presence of an event horizon and
sputter spittled words on papyrus planes
until the shift of the earth quaking announces
the incipience of newly colored light 

In silence my lens relaxes to a deeper focus
I become a confluence of luminaries lost
a heaven of stars fixed yet afire and I
am left to discern the weft and weave
of precious silver threads caressing my cheek

kissing my inner ear till my spine tingles
and all consciousness flashes to a lucid wake 
free to fly into the inverted cathedral chandelier
and don the gauze of the everwhite floral fleece 
until reverberations breathe me into fallen snow.
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