The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
The Insufficiency of the Bifurcational

Long have I learned that spike-sigh-coins
have a beveled and striated edge of
neither weather nor prey-blossom-spear
and that they are best left to the alms 
bucket in the apse of lily white basilicas

I speak of the greater constellations
less dichotomous than cotyledonous
worn pages torn from a triptychal codex
where know-love-procreation spews blood
across the tender rituals of beggars

We speak in clustered hyphenations
uttered knots of the untide which
moistened with momentary pause
unbind the impaled to a light-sky-burial
of the raptor's dialectical delectations

The chorus convening around the altar
concedes the need of genuflection
after the ode of eulogies falls away 
the silent heart remains in worship
beneath the bake of transcendental rays

The restless mind braids its hair 
around thoughts of distended meaning
walks the cloister's parapet
turgid with manifold remembrances 
grounded by a single tongue unforked

Whatever membrain conceptualizing
bears the protoplasmic collection
of mitochondrial dysphoria, there
you will find a foundering nave 
dancing to an unsorted cacophony
in a polyrhythmic fever that
counterstirs nonlinear geometries into 
a calculus of blade-balm-derivative
hymns ever ancient and ever new.
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