by Helen Ivory | Oct 17, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Doubt He dreams of a church under water where green light ripples along the walls, the altar speckled with fish. Behind him the cavernous dark, the crouching men, teeth bared, the spear flung, now poised in mid-air. He is the breath and he is the...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 16, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Olives The symbolism was as mashed as my nerve: the table set with a chipped and stained antipasto bowl filled with pimento olives drowning in oily marinade. It looked like you were making an effort. This time I didn’t care. The sweat leached from...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 15, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Marginalia 20/02/2014 I have started drawing birds in the margins. The space is birds, all the white is birds. “Open your eyes. The light is birds.” And words are birds “As gay as words they fly” the birds are in my brain now nesting flying...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 14, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Inspiration I stubbed that out with my last cigarette. Friends tell me it is all a passing phase; and that I must feel better. I never felt bad; a little unsociable, a huge lack of money. As each day passes flatter than an un-risen pancake; I...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 13, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
The Lure of the Threshold The hound is out tonight. It lowers its head and drools in wait for a passer-by. Threading through the bamboo the summer moon stipples its taut back, silvers the hackles of hair and pools its watching eyes. Across the...
