Poems from Kurt Philip Behm
Gripping the meteor,
both hands for dear life
Expelling, compelling,
less heat and more light
Afraid to let go,
knowing what it will...
Does your writing leave room
for intrusion
With spaces for listeners
to crawl in
Are your words like a sponge
that the reader can drain...
Is remembrance now a hidden tenant,
that lives throughout your home
Does it lurk in every corner,
to come out when you’re alone
Is the...
If you don’t write
everything down
Then at least take
everything in
Seeds once planted,
ripen and grow
A blind eye
—the killer within...
Devoted to my writing,
a prayer with every word
Faithful to each line I write,
my verse—my spoken Lord
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April,...