by Helen Ivory | Sep 15, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
Greetings and Salutations “I’ll know that civilisation has completely collapsed when bus drivers stop waving to each other.” – Joanne Limburg Idle thoughts of a bus driver number something-or-other in a series of the infinite: what if the...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 14, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
New craft I’m taking delivery of a house that flies. Wish us well, and hope it will respond to our touch. The tyres hum on the tarmac, then no longer as all the senses lift. Pull back the stick. The passing light sets you to navigate....
by Helen Ivory | Sep 13, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
E47 I like that morning is a verb – everything doing and being, hiving at the tangled docking stations of perhaps- a hypothetical, taglog Tense, like channelling the multitasking buzzibees, North Circular – overloading zero hours,...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 12, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
Glass For obvious reasons the first rule in any art gallery or museum is don’t touch the art even if the works seem to be behind glass Is that really glass he asks the guard we’ve never seen that before and we’ve been to the Louvre in Paris and...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 11, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
Goethals Football field, Kurseong I watch a lonesome Tibetan horse grazing on the Goethals football field ; solitary clouds chew sadness all morning here, as if, it is their staple food at breakfast The starving fog licks the whole body of the...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 10, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
The Unholy Spirit If Jesus was the type to enjoy a drink, then the porcelain version pinned at our front door would surely be happier than he looks Beneath his feet, a round finger bowl, eternally brimming with holy water. Never a dry-dip in this...
