by Helen Ivory | Jun 8, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Peeoy In a dictionary with scorched edges, my daughter finds the Scottish word for homemade firework, a twisted cone of gunpowder, lit at the top. Darkening the room, and removing small animals, she fires the syllables into the air, whistling...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 7, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
The Last Chorus Girl of the West She is a long way from the old saloon, the boarded windows of Father’s face, the self playing piano like a harmonica in the pocket of a hanging man – still making scraps of songs of the air. The drawl’s gone,...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 6, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
There is Art by the Side of the Road for Truck Drivers I saw Van Gogh by the side of the road I saw Van Gogh leant up by a lamppost I saw his blue iris glow stuffed in and left behind somewhere in High Wycombe England With the ghost of the poet...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 5, 2013 | Word & Image
Paul Sands was born in 1962 and spent his formative years close to the River Trent in Nottingham. He began writing in 2010 . He self-published his first collection of poetry,” ego…ergo” in June 2012 and is currently talking himself out of...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 4, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
The Hoarder Cleans Out It is impossible to label the boxes after a life of miscellany. I name them all after members of my family, most of whom were named after each other. Years blend and knead like terrible dough that never rises....
