by Helen Ivory | Jan 5, 2014 | 12 days 2013
Nativity Bethlehem is bolted shut and there no jobs in this England the innkeepers hold cardboard doors when he been on his bike so long that say no room and we full up for twenty, forty miles and more an angel’s crying for her mum and left and...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 4, 2014 | 12 days 2013
Christmas Brittle as a glass bauble poised to fall from the pine’s soft tips, or a wine glass perched on the table’s edge. The season when everything glitters and sparks: party people, sequinned and jewelled, hands meeting like flint and steel;...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 3, 2014 | 12 days 2013
Seasonal Now that rain reflected lights refract the decorated streets, with fractured ribbons, shivering through the darkening days, obscure, tangential, liminal, this ancient season sinks down into Earth; its signs: a sharpened flint, burnt...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 2, 2014 | 12 days 2013
Ira Lightman makes public art in the North East (the Spennymoor Letters, the Prudhoe Glade, the Gatesheads)...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 1, 2014 | 12 days 2013
Dec. 5th. 2013 We did wonder. People were laughing, it was human nature, just another day. But Darkness came, we thought it would. A dribble at first, liquid toes dancing, teasing. But beyond, his vast seething body was approaching, silent through...
by Helen Ivory | Dec 31, 2013 | 12 days 2013
Stille Nacht On the night that I was born, the bells rang out across the world. In Coventry, in Dresden, the cathedral bones sheltered worshippers with candles, witnessing the ruins. In Auschwitz-Birkenau, the story goes, the...
