by Helen Ivory | Mar 24, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Reunion There are no shrieks of recognition. Skiddaw outside the window is the least changed though it changed with the weather then. Gradually the faces fit the names; last seen on the brink of womanhood, the bodies never could. Voices are the key:...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 23, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Poems in Bed …the darkness around us is deep. —William Stafford Winter’s close—light’s low and brief. The body’s slow heft slumps in the early dark toward sleep. I resist, propped up steep on a barricade of pillows, reading poems. It’s a solo...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 22, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Woven In i. Once my head was off a new house was needed, as though the stones had blood so soaked into their porous, gritty hearts that no water could wash them clean. The pond fills slowly; it rains so rarely. The weed waits, with the one...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 21, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
§ Angel, the morning after heroin first time. I was your boy. Once, we were Gods ignoring each other. Rats come out The back of dim wood lacquered mantle-piece. Sweat drips On the sleeve notes of hoi-polloi zeitgeist poet who finds Sirens in...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 20, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
4’33” (In honor of John Cage’s centennial –1912 – 1992) He climbed up the stairs and said – No more. Sinking into the sofa he wired himself to his iPod, thumbed for the track 4’33” of silence, shut his eyes and listened. Within a minute he pulled out...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 19, 2013 | Prose & Poetry, Word & Image
Chris Guidon is a confessional artist and poet from Kidderminster. Like a snake he needs sunshine to live.
