by Helen Ivory | Apr 15, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
The Midnight Gentlemen all those midnight gentlemen, with their cultured bones shaped so finely and their eyes like glass beads, glinting dull coins in the moonlight- i can see them traipsing through the living room, up the stairs, their spindly fingers...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 13, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Arm Wrestling with Nonno My mother told me how he altered the river’s course, how those muscles were forged in the icy torrent where he shifted boulders. An alpine soldier of the first war, later self-announced target of Fascist batons and castor oil; Fireman,...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 12, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Knife Hits Nerve Caught cold in dead november space between dark and dark, sky sinks like ether over crumbling consciousness, and there is no more pain or joy: simply technique, cutting through layers without feeling and behind the house where you do not live any more...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 11, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Tower Block, Syria bullet-hole windows balconies tinged with grey and the roof full of stones sunrise spreads and behind the sky booms and booms a burnt block close by smoke thickens to blue it moves like a demon tastes of mortar and blood Joanna...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 9, 2012 | Prose & Poetry, Word & Image
Ira Lightman makes public art in the North East (the Spennymoor Letters, the Prudhoe Glade, the Gatesheads) and lately Willenhall and Southampton. He devises visual poetry forms and then asks local communities to supply words that will bring them...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 8, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
In the Garden After Storms When you love someone, you’re curious about them. You long to ask questions, hunger for answers. What’s your favourite food? Bath or shower? What’s the last movie you saw? Do you read in bed? Do you like wine, gardening, knitting, boxing,...
