The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
The Taste of Becoming

Conservation of observation states:
the more the becoming the less the taste
and carapace leather grows cloudiest
just before the golem rises from its 
molten rebirth and the quickening of
wings unfolding around the atmosphere,
a freshly quenched quill founders
but briefly for a flow of music milk 
lost to a tender intoxication and
the twine-tied cotyledon of lessons
packed in waxpaper dreams of 
buttercream cupcakes collapsing 
into a flurry of neural neutrons
decaying into spoken auroras hinting
at azure waters beyond a gray horizon 
while we climb to another mountaintop
so rarely enjoying a seashore slalom
or the slurp of oystered pearls across
the temporal tongue dangling between
sensations too busy embodying the
grandest of imaginings to savor the
umami of the sweat of our own salty 
molting
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