"Knife Studies"
a poem from a dark, empty house by jake kilroy.
Anarchist blessings for those camping in life,
burning old bills and sticks through their hearts,
cutting out snowflakes and pasting new stars,
oh, what fun an afternoon can be with a knife.
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6 comments:
It's not too late to become good,
the snowflakes became alive as I knew they would,
to snowball into positive hail,
to harden rain and color the pale.
Here we dedicate our lives to the white powdery bliss,
Here we will never miss.
So help me, Jason, that better not be a Frost poem...
That is a JK original my friend. Freestyled to blend (like snow) with your poem.
Damn. Well, that's cool. Once I see the word "snow" twice in a poem, I have to wonder if it's Frost. Also, at this point, I think more of your writing is on my blog than yours, good fellow.
I cannot explain to you how insanely chaotic life has been since July 7th. And probably earlier than that.
Is it escrow? I bet it's escrow. I can only assume it's escrow. I wouldn't know for sure though. I'm a not a big, fancy adult like you, Mr. Kornfeld. However, I am crazy stoked for you, buddy.
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