by Helen Ivory | Sep 4, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Stick Dance I’m caked in history, upside down on your street, my silhouette cutting singers in black and white, dizzy between the trees, amassing description. I come clean, blow a path through talcum powder and cheap hotel bars of soap, use...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 3, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Writing About War How do you write about a war? The answer is simple. You don’t. Instead, you write about men walking in a line. It is a long line, with many men, and the men walk one step behind another. Near the back of the line,...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 2, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Tunes Next to the cattle market A long alleyway room, where electric looking chairs waited. Tunes the barbers. ‘Right to the bone’ he would order. I sat quietly, as the snipping teeth bumped along. Tractor chugging graders ran through,...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 1, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Mother and the Mortgage Mother is like a nervous yet overly positive mouse and since I moved away, it’s just been her and my sister in that huge, half-empty house. They play arts and crafts most days and my sister sleeps away afternoons like a cat...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 31, 2016 | Reviews
Every town begins in the imagination. Every town is a continuous, sustained act of belief which exists as an entity because, collectively, we all agree that it is so. A group of people settle someplace, probably near water. They build their houses, stake their...
