by Helen Ivory | Nov 7, 2016 | 2016 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
To Us All a message from loudspeaker onto our waiting ears tells us all welcome, come inside, come as you are but when we enter they begin taking us apart offering us new clothes and figures. HR Creel is getting too old...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 6, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Not Atlas The sun says: just keep going. As day follows night, one foot in front of the other. Here’s your sky candle. The sky says: I’ll wrap all around you. Keep you safe, keep you free. Spread your wings; I’ve got you. The earth says: sink down...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 4, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Picturing Celeriac Homer, as journeyman, knew to unearth it, how the sun’s scarce fingers pulsed the soil for its life. * This creature, pale white, legs folded underneath it, delivered dirty in a box. * It is a white oak roof boss on the ribs of...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 3, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
meeting a nazi he was like any other nasty old man – smug – his waistline at his breasts – a wife skittering at his pleasure ‘they made me build roads’ he laments – chewing on a kaiser roll – tongue...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 2, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Wilderness We could do that, but we’d have to shoot the dog, skin the rabbit, kick in the deer skull, fashion an altar from the mushroom fleshed ribs. Spine like a boulder strewn trail, beside it the attendant young vulture, head black and...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 1, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Sliced (a cut-up poem) you come home from New York City and a love affair you kept on a lowish heat I shot a video the footage is so sick smelling of the fancy, short drinks to where I refrigerate under January milky ways And we practice the gentlest of improvisations...
