by Helen Ivory | Apr 5, 2018 | Prose & Poetry
String Theory My cats won’t play with static toys: they have to be balletic, with a puppeteer of human hands to make a plain string dance. The game becomes a battle, not of cat v string, but of feline versus human in multiple dimensions. A...
by Kate Birch | Apr 4, 2018 | Prose & Poetry
from The Red and Yellow Nothing VIII – Somewhere in Scotland, five African men play Mancala by firelight. As they discuss the strangeness of the land they’re in, their voices are carried on a cold, salty wind: i do you know what is burning in the...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 3, 2018 | Prose & Poetry
Playing the Tune Freddie do play us a tune, do get up off your bloody backside and play us something. Olivia’s voice made its way across the room, strident and cajoling at the same time. Freddie stumbled to his feet, knocking his glass against the white...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 2, 2018 | Prose & Poetry
Blackboard I brush chalk from my hands. I’ve finished. The boy sneezes. He puts his Nintendo down, mutters: does that really mean anything? I say: wipe your nose. How do I tell a small, scowling child that this final set of...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 1, 2018 | Prose & Poetry
Forecast tomorrow will see frequent showers and occasional sunny intervals red poppies and purple cornflowers will push up through silent motorways temperatures are set to soar in the coming week which may set off thunderstorms passenger...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 31, 2018 | Prose & Poetry
Ten Ways Of Looking At Turbines White spoors: the hillside’s bacilli. Absorbed into mist their cloak of invisibility. Or far out, flittered like butterflies on a cabbage-blue sea. Rotating bow ties. Surrealist...
