Kurt Philip Behm Poems

Seventh Son of a Seventh Son
the night has a thousand eyes

The music fades, past dance is done
...

At eighteen,
I thought that I could write my way to heaven
I'd waltz right in, announce my name, and sit
down on its throne
...

I've never had a friend who didn't hurt me,
I'm told that's just the price of getting close

I've never had a friend to not desert me,
...

Without there being
A God
I could never question
His existence
...

Prose tells the story,
Poetry explodes the thought
Leading you into
—a dimension newly wrought
...

Is there always one verse
you still have yet to write

And if not—what's the point
...

Belief in the end…
if truth be your cross

To break or to bend
...

Blistering thunder
Cracking asunder
Craters form
High ground being torn
...

It's better to let her…
keep those fancy shoes and bags
if she comes to bed each night
...

I dreamed far into the distance
and found an ocean beyond the sand

With no beach around its borders
...