by Helen Ivory | Dec 22, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Paris in August ‘You’re a whore!’ Your voice resonates through the stillness. I stare into your apartment. You’re facing to the right by the aspidistra; she’s in profile directly opposite you. The slender windows mirror my own. They’re thrown...
by Helen Ivory | Dec 21, 2013 | Prose & Poetry, Word & Image
A Heap of Broken Images After T.S. Eliot and Robert Smithson Rob Stuart is a media studies lecturer, filmmaker and light verse enthusiast living in Surrey. In addition to Ink, Sweat and Tears he has...
by Helen Ivory | Dec 20, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Dead-heading You can keep your dozen upright yellow soldiers with browning edged curled tissue-paper petals, wrapped in shining cellophane no rose-feed soaked oasis will raise them from the thirsty dead or assuage the foliaged guilt of your forecourt sex-flower...
by Helen Ivory | Dec 19, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Through His Eyes Seven years old and he’s already a frigging know-it-all! Told him, take yer shower, do it now while ya got the chance. He don’t like it. He don’t want to go first, wants to get something from the fridge...
by Helen Ivory | Dec 18, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Murmuration Snow rags thaw to a skylark scaling octaves of air, to a chill swallow christened sky and in the cut balsam bee gloved and pouting, seeds’ hooks and burs drifting to sun cracked shadow, to crocus yolk and fungus dew, daffodils’ choir...
by Helen Ivory | Dec 17, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Well There is no time to appear anything close to sentimental. Staring out the window, Concrete driveway, the empty light hangs. She said it was her favorite house. I didn’t know I was only here for a few days. A passenger passing through on...
