by Helen Ivory | Aug 22, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Isthmus we are on the Isthmus past-present soil growing crowded and carbon-hot is that tide higher? where is that lake? those polar bears swim but aren’t walruses scary-odd December-spring day in the big baked Apple I like Florida, but...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 21, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Late in the Evening The rapid tap of rain is hands on skin, ground hard from the day’s dry tread made loose by this roof-tap down-piss. Lost amidst slap-dash dots and splashes, nothing to be seen but still a sense of something relayed in...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 20, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
after Landscape with the fall of Icarus sun she love dem pleat on he peasant frock an’ dem pleat he ploughin’ an’ dem curve sail, an’ river moute, an’ dem plough pleat curvin’ sun she love do mes tic: sheep...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 19, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Banana Man on the Bakerloo Line With the delicate, cautious care of a first-time mother reaching for her crying baby, the man on the Bakerloo line train tip-toes his fingers into his bag. With surgical precision he extracts a blackening, limp banana...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 18, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Arguments for an empty room It is a space that shapes, a boon, an asset. A container, a repository, a suggestion. And we can now confidently add to that: an inheritance, an investment, an aid – exclusively and uniquely...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 17, 2016 | 2016 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
Foxgloves 1. There’s not much you can say about hollyhocks. 2. Or are they foxgloves? 3. They’re tall, for instance. 4. Skyscrapers of the garden. 5. And they always appear in June. 6. Like big, extravagant yardsticks for the...
