Kurt Philip Behm

Kindling The Fire (+1)

You can’t think your way

into a poem

Or feel your way

out of a verse

 

They first must conspire…

your spirit inspired

Words no longer forced

—or perverse

 

 

Sandbars

 

Are you digging a hole

you will never crawl out of,

a prison self-made by your hand

The metaphors mix

as you lie there betwixt

—the bars sinking into the sand

 

(Dreamsleep: April, 2021)

 

 

Hermit Of...

 

All my friends are

virtual online

Arms-length fraternal,

 distance sublime

Safe in my cave,

 with cursor in hand

Downloading affection

—beyond all demand

 

(The New Room: April, 2021)

 

 

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