Poems from Kurt Philip Behm
I remember art deco things,
I remember peaches and wine
I remember sirens in the night,
I remember waving goodbye
I remember the...
Is blood,
the price of art
Is death,
the price of truth
A rose,
its thorn uncovered
And love
—the price of youth
(Villanova...
Religion…my writing,
all faith in the pen
My savior the words
—the Muse heaven sent
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)
Dying the slow death of political infection,
it hides within our words
As we try to run, and try to hide,
its plague a constant scourge...
A ring on his finger
—ribbon around his heart
(Dreamsleep: August, 2019)