by Helen Ivory | Dec 7, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Three Giraffes Passing them in my car on the way to work, I saw three giraffes in the rush hour jungle. The tallest staring straight ahead, the middle one turning traffic wards and the smallest eyeing the heavens. Stranded amidst the...
by Helen Ivory | Dec 6, 2016 | Haibun, Tanka, Haiku & Haiga
* riding a pale horse up the needle to a vein slipping through shadows * another mottle on the back of her hand the slow IV drip * threads of dark crimson coiling through liquid gold sunlit catheter John Hawkhead is a writer of haiku and other short...
by Helen Ivory | Dec 5, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
The Sun Spear You are pierced, it’s true, and the sun has seared your child flesh; but since we share a flame, and since we spin like spirits in a ceilidh of flames, I am split and seared with you, kilted to our wounds by a fine, sharp pin,...
by Helen Ivory | Dec 4, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
‘If it’s New Daffodils to be Dying in May’ Taking online lessons in how to best greet that certain someone if bumping into them again didn’t prepare me at all for someone just looking quite like that “certain someone” walking in and disturbing the reading and...
by Helen Ivory | Dec 3, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Saturday morning Preciosa hangs her baby on the wind, the father, look: smoke is rising from the mezquita, the nuns walk by the children’s cemetery, bless the little coffins, look: Archangels are breathing autumn over the balcony, treacle...
