by Helen Ivory | Aug 25, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
A57 Drug route, gun route- nappies, cartons and bottles below griffs and hags. The moor a midden of shit, ash and offal, the dead seeping into drains. And by a cairn a sheep slate-grey hard up against a gale, and the road east brake-light red...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 24, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Café Auteur On every café commute your Godard eye transmutes the mannequins of lingerie windows into beings just like us (with regrets and sorrows and loves). You command a New Wave brilliance for things in each of your photographs. I feel...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 23, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Temple Meads Beneath vast curves of brick and iron and stone, I bend towards the small black tablet, trying to establish a connection. His works are mighty; the fabled bridge that spans nothing, the great ship that came home. Now, everything is...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 22, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Isthmus we are on the Isthmus past-present soil growing crowded and carbon-hot is that tide higher? where is that lake? those polar bears swim but aren’t walruses scary-odd December-spring day in the big baked Apple I like Florida, but...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 21, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Late in the Evening The rapid tap of rain is hands on skin, ground hard from the day’s dry tread made loose by this roof-tap down-piss. Lost amidst slap-dash dots and splashes, nothing to be seen but still a sense of something relayed in...
