by Helen Ivory | Apr 4, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Everything Changes Goiás Velho, Brazil (for Terezinha Pereira da Silva) We leave early, drive for two and a half hours, park, find the church where you were married. Later, in town, an information officer listens, searches assiduously through the...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 3, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Salem January IV The sky opens Blinking its single slackened eye. It grumbly gets up. Before shuttering again and whatever blue was there Is gone. It’s gone again. What is there left to say about Marc Janssen? Maybe, his verse is...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 2, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Mother She cut letters out of me, which quietly and unnoticed danced red poems. In the autumn wind, they fell at her feet and rustled decay. Since then, my name wears holes. I counted myself off on five fingers and planted my remains in the...
by IB | Mar 31, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Photo of a man lighting up in the snow In the wrong shoes, no gloves, his dark coat and hat are greyed with snow. He is in white-out, stopped in his tracks, dying for the comfort of a fag. He makes a chalice around the flame, hands becoming shield so he can...
by IB | Mar 30, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Annette’s Ode Slithering through incisor-gap, English leapt from your lips to mine, a string between you & me, ringed with hot coals we slide back & forth in the air like abacus beads. Coals that warm & warn: lighting the way as best...
by IB | Mar 30, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
How It Ends There is an album of all the men your mother have loved. It sits every night in the deep silence of the basement. Tonight, your mother burns the album, she pours fire into her longing. Every memory carries a flame, every man with his own ash....
