by Helen Ivory | Jun 11, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Winter at Daniel’s Hole We camped there in summer evening heat; tents pitched on tinder-dry grass, while we cooked meat and grain, tore bread to wipe our wooden bowls, to fill our bellies for sleep. But winter is all box-shine, glow-forth and ice-glint, and ice...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 10, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Rose was an old lady who used so much rouge that they had to build a rouge factory near to her house to keep her supplied. To supply the factory, they needed to have copious quantities of iron oxide, aka rust. To get enough rust, they had to bring in cars from...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 9, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Wyoming his man’s good and dead news came in a missive that he read until the sap left him the paper cut bled for hours he held the letter to his mouth, bear- hugged tight air inside his chest and held it like a fist the last kiss felt kinda strange, blood-rusty, hell...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 8, 2012 | Reviews
When reading Chris Emery’s latest work, I am struck by the nostalgia of loading suitcases into a 5am taxi taking me to Gatwick airport; setting-out before most have even risen. There is a dawn-ness to his work; while...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 7, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Thinking Loudly The first time they meet is in the National Portrait Gallery café, below ground, before Christmas, early in the evening. ‘And that’s for you,’ she says, giving him change. She speaks with an accent and her eyes are icy blue. Is she feisty or cheeky?...
