by Helen Ivory | Sep 22, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
from Jack Frost and the Swans III The mist comes in like a stranger’s hands and the trees are letters and the sky their paper and the roads are rivers and the cars their boulders and the houses are glass and the people their statues and the lakes are iced...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 21, 2012 | Prose & Poetry, Word & Image
Flesh Tones A pilgrimage of phantom limbs in a jumble sale of sex. A lost jigsaw of pieces riddled by the waves. Your hip hook is cast through the shadow of my shoulder. Flotsam limbs, I’ll get to know...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 20, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
The Sky in their Eyes “A thin crescent of the waxing moon can be used for chopping up vegetables,” a sky watcher made an idle remark. “For mowing lawns one has to employ a crescent of the waning moon,” another muttered. Later that day, giving an extensive...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 19, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Cadence Go limp. Let the liquid engine’s thrum rumble through you from within. Feel it woo your bones to butter. In the voice of the speaker you’re the lull of Sunday afternoon to dusk. Swoon at the sweep, the rush, that scours you smooth, as several pin- prick...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 18, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
The Corner of Wells and Madison I know that if I ever fall in the street the way that man did, in the middle of an intersection, someone will mind. But if unlike that man I make it to the other side, scale the curb and mount the sidewalk and then fall, no one...
