The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
Molten

Capture the rise of warmth passing
Vibrate with the joy of participating in ions fleeing
Praise the last subharmonics harmonic echo and never let go!
Alert the gong with the bubbling banging of pots and found rocks 
Whose sparks forever facet the iris of our yearning caprice
Struck to the root by the touch-me-not petals of the morning monstrance 
Lavalikened life pours through the crucible of the aperture
in the bayonet array of haystack radiances mimicing macaroon embers
oh how we smolder stacked upon the taproot pyre that crowns our
Addagoppian[1] madonna with gilded stars bezeled partly in iron,
partly in the baked clay[2] beach of our pulverized dreams once 
druzy now fluorescing in the deep violet billowing of the dolphin-pranced
ocean aswarm with noctiluca-bedazzled sargassum rafts safely snuggled
in seahorsehead nebula lagoons thick with date palm mangroves although
really simply adrift in darkerness emblazoned by the passing quasar 
and the schiller of this year's astra nouveau refracted by the wake of
the kharonic gondola whose long pole stokes the underfire into a
carnelian-eddying-into-onyx jet black tar pit of mystic molasses
jaggery of cloud wanderers astride the overturned turtoise flailing
muffled cries of ecstasy gurgling behind the soul keelhauled from its
corpus now freed to alight amongst the viscously turbulent flow.
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