by Helen Ivory | Sep 20, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
The Sky in their Eyes “A thin crescent of the waxing moon can be used for chopping up vegetables,” a sky watcher made an idle remark. “For mowing lawns one has to employ a crescent of the waning moon,” another muttered. Later that day, giving an extensive...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 19, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Cadence Go limp. Let the liquid engine’s thrum rumble through you from within. Feel it woo your bones to butter. In the voice of the speaker you’re the lull of Sunday afternoon to dusk. Swoon at the sweep, the rush, that scours you smooth, as several pin- prick...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 18, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
The Corner of Wells and Madison I know that if I ever fall in the street the way that man did, in the middle of an intersection, someone will mind. But if unlike that man I make it to the other side, scale the curb and mount the sidewalk and then fall, no one...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 17, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
What Guides the Spider A whispering sounds on the wall, Is heard for certain in the garden. Spiders are unsurprised, It seems, by human absence Of our vacant rooms. And in the shadows, Intricate weavings Are commonplace. The street patterns light On fading...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 14, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
observatory winter in sutherland drives the sheep to the skies – the warmth of some suns even at a distance can overwhelm: invited in from their kraals they scatter as if free. on the edge of town inside a roofless hut i sat down...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 13, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Before Nano-Memoirs He scrawled his drunken stupor across the back flap of a safety envelope, mailing it to the wrong address. “Next time there’ll be hell to pay,” he warned in thick, black ink crawling like spider veins over the edge, up my arm, down my...
