by Helen Ivory | Sep 4, 2018 | Prose & Poetry
Geneva Tantrum at the hypermarche checkout a mother rigid with shame wishes the plastic floor would swallow them both, and maybe it will deposit them down there. Under their feet indifferent to boundaries a twenty mile wide ring collides protons like...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 3, 2018 | Prose & Poetry
Stratus The clouds were not just low, they drifted, playing not only hide and seek with planes, they softened everything. Stole the feathers from the blackbirds; their songs too. You will never see such weather again. Perhaps last week you strode...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 2, 2018 | Prose & Poetry
Invasion (The Slow Fall / Imbalance / Fall) she held the rock close both eyes bruises in than we had either ever methods to kill the waxing waited for seaweed avoidance / three nuclear across the tonal majors weighed our shins with rain dances for...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 1, 2018 | Prose & Poetry
Two Mutes there were two mutes and they were always together which is not to say, they didn’t speak (to each other) they could read the other like a book knowing which line would be consequent like thought upon paper between them all was smooth and...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 31, 2018 | 2018 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
A Dose of Chaminade At the end of the lawn as you contemplate the gentle lake and do your best to translate the poetry of the crows, you can hear against a small wind the drawing-room piano. It is playing a piece called L’Ondine, a piece which wears an...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 29, 2018 | 2018 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
from Wave Diary Sunday I would have swallows nesting in my church and moss on the pews. I would have the tide wash in twice a day, to decorate the church with sacred cuttlefish bones and rosaries of shells. I would have the walls barnacled up to...
