by Helen Ivory | Apr 26, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Coober We know the list, but we still write it down: Milk opal, resin opal, wood opal, menilite, Muller’s glass, siliceous sinter, fire opal, Peruvian opal, black opal. The overhead projector makes a noise like a click beetle flexing its abdomen, until it stops at...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 25, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Manuel Cortez and the Immortal Tree “A tree that is left growing in its natural state is a crude thing”
Minamoto no Shitagō There was nothing left for me except to chase the ghosts of Cabral, Columbus and de Gama to the edge of the world which is...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 24, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Clinic I knock on the iron door. My knuckle bounces off the cold surface sending the sound back into the cutting air. I wrap my coat sleeve around my knuckle and I bang it again, thud, thud, thud, trapping the sound at the point of contact, muffling it into place like...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 23, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Mother St. Anthony, please look around; something is lost and must be found. She will find you. She will find you under bedsheets at night, she will work arrhythmias into your sleep. Your pupils will shut out almost everything, except her eyes; those brown beads,...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 22, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
In Transit The train hurries past sheep far too content to look up—autumn field, farewell. Dear voyager, cast aside your brand new guide book— see there, a castle! On a bare platform, girl hands apple to boy: to take or not to take. Prayer finds its form in churches,...
