by Helen Ivory | Jun 6, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Air Passages I I want to write you new poems on the back of some abandoned ones; I folded the paper up in my rucksack and left town on a train God is closing down in this town of mine and pigeons are resting on the eaves of the church. There isn’t anything to...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 4, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
A Jurisdictional Tiff Even paced exiting into the irregular, dark marks the last least surface, an incongruous resident’s hacking cough short-circuits each breath. Such reassurance as there is, picking larkspur in mid-winter, two-stepping through miasmal...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 3, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
“Honestly, we are all children of God” Day before Christmas Eve fell on Jehovah’s rest day, I visit Pawprint. He is substantially medicated. Since my last visit he’s invested in an exotic aquarium. He still protects his shooter bong like an...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 2, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
On the realisation of absolute insignificance Cool water sweeping between half open fingers Like a goldfish with chewed fins I swam. I could never grasp the cupped hand It took me twice as long as you to get to the rock. With a sunny halo, you reached out Clasped my...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 1, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Nobody’s Perfect After elevenses, Mr Nobody was drying up. When Perfect kept leaping at his lead hanging from a coat-hook Nobody understood his frustration. At the park they met Mr Nowhere. The friends sat watching the world go by. “Remind me...
