by Helen Ivory | Nov 4, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Picturing Celeriac Homer, as journeyman, knew to unearth it, how the sun’s scarce fingers pulsed the soil for its life. * This creature, pale white, legs folded underneath it, delivered dirty in a box. * It is a white oak roof boss on the ribs of...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 3, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
meeting a nazi he was like any other nasty old man – smug – his waistline at his breasts – a wife skittering at his pleasure ‘they made me build roads’ he laments – chewing on a kaiser roll – tongue...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 2, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Wilderness We could do that, but we’d have to shoot the dog, skin the rabbit, kick in the deer skull, fashion an altar from the mushroom fleshed ribs. Spine like a boulder strewn trail, beside it the attendant young vulture, head black and...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 1, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Sliced (a cut-up poem) you come home from New York City and a love affair you kept on a lowish heat I shot a video the footage is so sick smelling of the fancy, short drinks to where I refrigerate under January milky ways And we practice the gentlest of improvisations...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 31, 2016 | 2016 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
Six Red Seeds In Persephone’s dreams the sky is black and ravens sing like mourning doves. Beneath the white grass, the soil is red as pomegranate juice. She longed to go back to her mother’s safe house, filled to the walls with stacks of...
