by Helen Ivory | Jun 6, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
from A German Autumn iv Gerhard Richter paints his daughter Sitting there watching shadows huddled in the corner he saw toes stepping into the studio a girl turning away at the edge of the window a sparkle in the plait at the nape of her neck * she...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 5, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Unearthing The little black clutch waited to present itself, slyly hidden in Nan’s nylon shopper, fondly fingered a thousand times, before faded faux leather muscled to the fore. I picked it up like a new thing; smelt old. Took a breath and delved inside...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 4, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Shave The backs of men’s necks queue on the Tube. Hot breath and the mustn’t of reaching to touch. Such a little inch of shared air to transgress. Sticky dress and long haul home to owned skin. When I was eighteen, my lover asked me to...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 3, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Thick Collars His living walked the halls of roads where branches pointed his direction. His coats thickness covered a chest with a heart for home. Lifting and pushing is the job of his hands; he worked the wrong side of each day. Breezes tease the edge...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 2, 2015 | 2015 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
Jack Kerouac’s scroll in The British Library – it’s the immense pressure of standing a beat apart, released through fine nicotine hands into dizzying thuds of keys and ribbon, that leaves a trail of latticework serifs as he drags them all behind...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 1, 2015 | 2015 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
Whatever shall I do with this time to myself? There is too much and too little choice all at once So I content myself with ferreting the remains of the laundry basket. So many socks! I have turned the rogue ones outside out, mud sprinkling, dried...
