A Brush Of Light Poem by Bernhard Emil Bruhnke III

I sat,

collapsed in a star.

A powdered veil of language
meandering ancient scribes of the loof...
..how it pierces in the quiver of dynamite

In the southeastern horizon of my
cornea,
left two.. quiet glitters
stealing my arbitrary path
of unspoken
wind.

They were proud...and boisterous in the purple mechanics of silence...
moistened an antediluvian
seal in my lymbic persuasion.

....Two transparent lighthouses
clouded blind behind the dance
of noosed vibration.

Dissapearing..aware of the meddling of prophets,
sinking into a river of maroon and lost illumination.