by Helen Ivory | Sep 7, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Your Impossible Eyes No one’s mapped the sun because the telescope’s too short or the questions lack the depth & the numbers shift the sum. It’s not a closed universe, the thread rejects its spool; this locale is hypothetical with instants...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 6, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
The First Page Of My Autobiography Call it thin– It’s a start of something smaller It cannot begin So dances across my wallpaper. Jason Visconti is a student enrolled in computer classes. He has been published for...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 5, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Closure there are a dozen doors i never closed. instead, i walked away letting the cool air drift out once solid doors. but with open doors, ghosts follow and at certain angles your shadows fill my days. i wish you wouldn’t but so far from then i cannot find my...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 4, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Social Control He’d lay about all day if given the chance. On his back, legs kicking the air on occasion. I raise his lead. He lifts his head and cocks it. Doesn’t seem to mind me attaching the rope to his neck and yanking to show I’m in charge. I...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 3, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
How to bake Sooterkins Prickle this demon borrowed skin until it peels away no warning the sharp taste of a pill can last for life how the shapeshiftcrawl of knife can leave you a foetus of bone somersaulting under the chum of your body no...
