by Helen Ivory | Jan 28, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Oranges Every summer, oranges grew like heartbeats: my father went to the grave of his sister and my mother picked them from the trees. Mornings and nights were peeled from their days and every day seemed a Sunday, a few fruit bathed in cold water...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 27, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Sentry Billy B. Good dope kept Viet Cong on white chargers at bay while on guard duty, seeds for poems about Rimbaud, etc. fell from saddlebags said Billy B. Slight of build, no nose for the specs he wore so always frame poking. His faded...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 26, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Ursus Maritimus Waiting at the junction where I turn left: logical and you turn right: creative, I take down my guard gesture for you to. The glass partition gone, I see you are all nose, the whites of your winter fleece and Northern hair distract me...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 25, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Orbit Look up on a clear night, you’ll see me glint by. I’ll try to wave assuming I’m not doing space things. They’ve got me growing weed under lamps; I have to roll it generously and put on funny hats. There are box sets but not what you’d hope:...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 24, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Itinerant Singer ‘Two’ Four walls contain acquaintances: Table and chairs – Immensely relevant. As well, the wine cup, The ticking clock, and Neatly folded paper-money To nurse me through An oncoming second life. Here, in...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 23, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Demdike A boy gnew me by a stonepit. He steemed in th sun stone-waking, lighting trees like wicks; his eyes were sofd as ash, and cities hymned and chymneyed in the atlas of his sex. I tricked in him, – unclocked all tocks, all ticks; a debt that ploppd...
