by Ivory Web | Dec 15, 2010 | Prose & Poetry
A Boy Casting Snow on Winter BarleyA variation of Paul Celan The months are hairs combed over each other, or crushed papers in a cellar. December is growing, fur on my lip. December’s the hair on a monk’s fingers, a book pulled open,a boy throwing...
by Ivory Web | Dec 13, 2010 | Prose & Poetry
The Weird and Wonderful World of TEFL #11 – #14# 11
Yanni brings me a bottle of Amstel and returns to his corner. I pour a glassful. It's flat. 'Yanni!' He comes over. 'There's no bubbles in this beer.' What a translator I am!...
by Ivory Web | Dec 12, 2010 | Prose & Poetry
Butterflies are the souls of dead babiesWhen he leaves, she collects all the caterpillars she can find at the bottom of the garden and sits cross-legged in the shade of the buddleia. She makes a hollow in her skirt and drops in the smooth green, the furry black, the...
by Ivory Web | Dec 11, 2010 | Prose & Poetry
the first bind of Saint Eurydice She seems not to be affected by the gouge. Her eyes blink quickly, trying to protect her from the ammonia. It is not fear that makes her eyes so agitated, she is pregnant with calm, and more than once has met me as we are. Her...
by Ivory Web | Dec 10, 2010 | Prose & Poetry
I Will Not Marry You because I frighten easilybecause I was born once bitten unready for loveand because your head is too small for your bodyand your nose somewhat big for...
by Ivory Web | Dec 8, 2010 | Prose & Poetry
A Tourist Afterwards the map becameplaces to contemplate rather than visit,names or sounds to lingerin the troubled gut,scratches and bites to heal. In a cold bath, perhaps asleep,he looks as green as the tiles,as thin as the soap,and we can hear, beneath...
