by Helen Ivory | May 11, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Travellers for Martin They were always there at the edge of the town, an unhoused presence we drove past on shopping-days and Sundays in the beat-up Morris Minor our grandfather steered, erratically,...
by Helen Ivory | May 10, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Against the Horizon Against the horizon, you must always consider three skies: the one you see, the one you think about, and the one that’s really there. Our illusions falter on an edge we prefer to imagine, a definition beyond sight. But the eye has no horizon,...
by Helen Ivory | May 9, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Unexpected Sunshine And the light’s fading, syrupy rich sunlight that touched the faces in the market, in the centre of town but didn’t sweeten their appearance to me as I wondered aimlessly on my day-off. The strange people are out, the ones that move slower,...
by Helen Ivory | May 8, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
The poem below comes from towards the end of Rob A. Mackenzie’s freshly launched pamphlet Fleck and the Bank. Fleck, an unconventional bank employee, has disappeared. A few months...
by Helen Ivory | May 7, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Writing Lessons The new chalk’s like a violin on wet slate, rhyming white lessons in a tall room where sunshine’s never touched the walls. Here generations come and go like moths, fidgeting to find the flame that burns, gambling odd pennies at pitch-and-toss. ‘Horses...
by Helen Ivory | May 6, 2012 | Prose & Poetry, Word & Image
Black Kitty from Across the Street The archetypal black cat, perfect, green eyes gleaming in the dark, so black he forms cat-shaped negative space in the day, and at night simply disappears. Walks right into neighbor’s homes like Shin Chan, pissing everybody off. He...
