Death Match Poem by Kurt Philip Behm
Death Match
I spoke my consciousness into the wind,
—eternity to hear
My past, present, and future lives,
eternal, divorced from the fear
Days grow short, my story on hold,
the Muse taking shelter inside
Reports dire, as verses alight,
—the truth in a death match with lies
(Villanova Pennsylvania: May,2017)
Friday, May 19, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: words
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4/24/2024 10:45:59 PM # 1.0.0.1119
