Walking The Lines Poem by Kurt Philip Behm
Walking The Lines
Blood,
fires from my pen
like a well shot round
14 karat penetration,
mighty wound of
self aggression
Letters,
reducing armies
into a special force
Time dying,
as mortared ink strikes
the page
The raw edge of battle,
...new combatants die,
leaving their mark
Cursive warriors of the
spoken word,
martyred sentinels of a bigger truth,
—walking the line
(Richmond Virginia: December,2002)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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9/20/2024 3:23:59 PM # 1.0.0.1119
