by Helen Ivory | Oct 12, 2018 | Prose & Poetry
microscript At a tiny table, by a tiny window I play hangman (where Robert Walser composed one too many stories) We are guileless – like the spearhead of an army. One that sends its fellows by the thousands. Fodder. (or guileful- it works both...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 11, 2018 | Prose & Poetry
Smoke & Mirrors Alice finds it curious that her friends are hell bent on contortion, their minds and bodies unhinged by perception, dislocated by notions of perfection. They slip easily into the illusion, strings attached to riggings of fancy,...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 10, 2018 | Prose & Poetry
Old East German Man In the basement of our apartment, an old man slowly decants rubbish bags into recycling bins. He shuffles back to the elevator, right foot sloping in that italicized signature of a stroke. I peer down at his bald, blotchy head...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 9, 2018 | Prose & Poetry
Mirror Lake Ten years ago, Yosemite, in Spring, we took the “easy” route to Mirror Lake, you still fit enough to clamber over rocky paths for miles until our lack of water finally defeated us at the tiny bridge. We ambled back another way,...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 8, 2018 | Prose & Poetry
Dadaville the number of families placed illegally in bed and breakfast hotels and other unsuitable temporary accommodation has risen by three hundred percent since twenty fourteen there is a visible rise in the numbers rents are unaffordable of multi...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 7, 2018 | Prose & Poetry
The Love Poetry of Judas Iscariot In Galilee, fog bound and still, I saw you smile a breath before the first bird sang and though tone-deaf to the grace notes, I suspected some brief divinity amongst the rough clothes, rougher language and poisonous...
