by Helen Ivory | Feb 10, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Office Politics Say not, let there be light, but darkness visible. William Hazlitt She knows that those who don’t figure much on others’ maps, are more easily defined than those who are like cities, where lapses can be subsumed. Though most of the time,...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 9, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Anubis Unleashed from a dell of juiceless bones, We’ve let slip our mummified whelp. The jackal-chinned transfigured one Rocketed between the shady and celestial. His carting away is never-endingness mourned. A winding sheet groans in dead letters. ...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 8, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Ornithology Here, where no one seems to walk, they couldn’t give the name of a bird whose loosely gathered congregation sweeps the mild midwinter sky between Miami and Boca. And so I noted down the details to help me find it later:...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 7, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Power to the People Like the powdered chocolate on my cappuccino and the lightest rain on the street outside, that conversation sprinkled itself over several tables. She, the younger one, looked happier now, as she, the older one, discoursed. Laura’s...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 6, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Just A Mountain I’m sitting on the edge of a volcano and I have this weird uneasy feeling, like I’m sitting on the edge of a volcano. I wouldn’t say it’s early, the sky’s crawling with stars and I’m still looking for something to do with all these...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 5, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Bertie “Hiya Bertie, how’ya doin today?” I ask, knowing the answer. “Terrible, jus’ terrible.” Comes the usual reply. “Aw no, what’s up?” a pointless question. “It’s me back.” Of course it is. He’s 94, with chronic osteoarthritis. “Is it still hurting?”...
