Pure Light Poem by Joseph Narusiewicz

She rambles like the eighteenth century
Baudelaire opens drapes to the window
Arc light glows like a devil
Compliments are small beggars
Write for yourself
Be more than a whore
Her dark little words a game

On the easel a dying mother
Sit on the cliff and watch the sea birds
Earth is a beautiful teacher
Grace touches the heart of sorrow
Stars seek the rivers flowing waters
Hear your solitude like a songbird
Emily Dickinson used heavens quill

The soul is judged in pure light