by Helen Ivory | Jan 17, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
The Candlemaker’s Office was sparsely filled. The worn brass door knob — a patina countless hands slipping over its surface, polished and discolored by each touch. That oak door — turning my wrist lean into it fighting the rub door against frame...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 16, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
Making is finding, troubadours know Making is finding, troubadours know, and all that comes to hand is an oarlock socket worn by salt, its oar somewhere freely parting water and a pilgrim soul finding rhythm. Have him push the boat ashore at...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 15, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
Workshop exercise For Kate Foley The river twinkles on my right. I’m walking briskly past a pair of disused shipyards whose noisy histories have been condensed to fit on plaques as neat as boiler-plates. The river’s banks are fidgety with ripples...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 14, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
The Last Carthusian The large metal bell with which I call myself to prayer is wanted by a museum. I sing in an affected accent the responses to the psalms but the jackdaws which laugh at me from the roof are not fooled. In a refectory which is...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 13, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
Heartland I am growing grass inside my ribs; fluted blades twisting their leading edge in meadows of flesh. There are fields of this. Where the lark has left, the wind gusts through – I have become its hollow short-cut and you are corridors...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 12, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
Realisation about a friend slowly and deliberately you draw information out of me the way my son eats a strawberry holding firmly onto the green stem sucking it down to the pulp Alexandra Corrin-Tachibana lived in Japan for 10...
