by Helen Ivory | Jan 20, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
The Use of Me Turn me in with turning leaves, with squirrels, tend me seldom as some feral plot. Watch me like a model in my polka dot apparel, let me be my foibles and my fops. Place me in among the lathes and potters wheels, plant me with the...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 19, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Cuddled in the Bus Station Cuddled in the bus station in our old wool coats we agree that the wobble in the axis of our favorite planet corresponds to the wobble in those organs outer layers barely conceal. Snow hustles the lyrical streets. Buses...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 18, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Birds Are Prayers: I Never Told Him These attic windows are old and high, heart-stained to seduce the sun down. While I sleep, someone pull the bleeding thing through the morning forest where we kissed. Bury it there. He’ll find it like dead...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 17, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
from Second Sequence 3. Morning noticed me almost brisk between the marigold and the buttercup Delight before the world and fear of encountering a woodsman bloody-handed and blue skinned Horror and ecstasy look like one...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 16, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Bird Woman I’m waiting in a cage that glitters with scatterings of costume jewelry like bird droppings. Jewelry pinned to my pillows, to my sheets, glinting with violence. Ready to blind. Valentina Cano is a student of classical singing who spends...
