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About me - Jamie Korf

Jamie Korf is a teacher and community organizer.

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Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Death
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THE YEARS AHEADI wonder if, when it comes slowerthe face of death is less apparentstealthily comminglingwith the features of a face you love.On him it was a clear intruderI tried not to watchas the head shrunkcaved in on itselfand slowly the wrinkleshe might have had at 75etched themselves deepinto his face.I will never meet ... More..

Politics, News & Issues > Government & Policies Should the government fund needle exchange programs?Smallicon
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People who inject drugs are at risk of contracting HIV, hepatitis and other blood-borne diseases if they share dirty hypodermic needles and syringes. These disease-related risks pose massive public health problems. Nearly half of all adults living with AIDS in Philadelphia contracted HIV through injection drug use. Clean need... More..

Creative Writing > Memoirs Memoirs: Rape
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THE YEAR I WAS FOURTEENToday I had coffee with my best friend from 8th grade, Elizabeth. We took a walk together in the sun. I met her for coffee because she's great and I like her in my life, not because of some Project. But in a quiet way it is part of the ever-ongoing project to reclaim the parts of my life that Jeffrey to... More..

Creative Writing > Short Stories Short stories: Growing Up
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The Diamond-FlashLaura Kale threw out all her paintings. She started with the one she'd finished just a few days before, shoved it into a black plastic trash bag. She'd spent six months on that one, going back again and again to rework the middle girl's face. In the same trash bag, she put ten small paintings she'd done a few... More..

Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Death of a loved one
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WHAT WORDSi'm not really good at losing people.try as i might to fight this death panicit does seem to kick in, and i can't seeground in front of my feet, just the tumble.four years since i lost you, since i first feltthe ground fall from under me. the falloutcomes easier now sometimes death isright around the corner.this fal... More..

Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Sensuality
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THE NARROW WINDOWbroadway is skeletal, stillthe two bicyclists on the crosswalkprotagonists on an empty stagestripped to our soiled undershirtswe shiver as the wind tears up the alleyblue raspberry slurpee coats the roof of my mouthmakeup caked dark around eyes, smearing lipsflakes of white paint stick to my shoulderas i lean... More..

Creative Writing > Reflections Reflections: Survival
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"I thought about the idea of my mother as a good woman and I rejected that, because I don't see why it's a good thing when you give up, or when you cooperate with those who hate you or when you polish and iron and mend and endlessly mollify for the sake of the people who love the way that you kill yourself day by day silently... More..

Creative Writing > Short Stories Short stories: Trauma
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SECOND SHOTA bell jingled as Joanna pushed open the glass door of the Ore House on the Plaza and stepped inside. The door closed behind her, but she did not continue walk into the restaurant. She stood there, blinking, as if she was unaware that she had already stepped inside. Her hair was in disarray and she kept fiddling wi... More..

Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: The seasons of love
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THE END OF WINTEReuphoria has no meaningit eats meaning, chews it upand spits it out in serviceof the jittering of a pulse,empty energy, happinessas distilled emotion.just as grief or sadness can bewhittled down to a pure, sparsecore, a clarity of sight, euphoriatoo can reduce to nothing butitself: no cause, no effect. only t... More..

Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Passion
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dear exhaustion,you are in my hips.you are in the tiny psychic region underneath my hips,underneath my lower back,in the core center of my bodythat burns with emotion and frustration and grounded physicalityand sometimes sex. you are my4-hours-of-sleep and 4-cups-of-coffee.you are my afternoon-fightwith an old friend you don'... More..

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