by Helen Ivory | Mar 7, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Color The light of the setting sun Shining behind the trees And leaves mocking the window. Birds are… Chirping in praise of it That light has colored their feathers. I am so colored Like the window pane, Standing before the sun. But my color, It doesn’t...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 7, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Non sequitur I always imagined icicles as frozen sighs. Once she asked me to commit a perfect crime. I sighed close to her heart. Winter. Ducks left our city. A role play tree howled brown leaves. I lit a fire. It was a non sequitur. ...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 6, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Diary of Water Rise from the water tunnels spinning from seabed, our first pierced breaths of oxygen are like an embryonic rush for birth swaying on the surface – half in one world – breath and sight in another. We reach the barrens of...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 5, 2017 | 2017 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
Broken cable In the middle of the bright Atlantic Floating on the swell between island volcanoes Looking past reflective surface tension To silvered gas bubbles beneath catching the light And across the issuing rift A long snake of data cable Broken...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 4, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
from Cancer Diary 2 20 May 2015 10:54: the crazy logic of my dreamscape lingers to mid-morning the brown bowl is cracked crazed down its left side — I unpack my life next in my luggage — the delicate cardigan unravels before my eyes so we pitch our tent...
