by Helen Ivory | Sep 3, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
Last Act It felt like the finale: the magic cloak skit bunglingly executed, given the ultimate twist, the audience killing themselves laughing – the master of mistiming surpasses himself. But it lingered on a shade too long: the gurn, the...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 2, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
Clocking on at the Sawmill After a successful breakfast of flapjacks and black coffee the Buddhist clocking on at the sawmill 250,000 board feet to cut and trim the moon still bright in the sky the sun rising wearing his big red shirt and his...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 1, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
Distress call A red tractor hovers over its white rims scalping around small splinted trees and I suppress a sneeze at the green over rust fence as the beast grumbles Under amber pulse flashes in glass skull neon skinned a...
