crimson in cramoisy, prefigure
that Love Unfailing, which could yet forgo
a knight who follows and fails, as Lancelot the grail.
She goes through banks of crimson balsam
naked under cramesy. For all my bella figura
the devil Belphegor
numbers me in his prime. Beat me for a Balaam’s ass.
Madonna of the crimson moon I serve
for a saviour, though stars and planets dance like figures of May
for Him Whoever-He-Is.
when sun and mindfulness have left me, let me not misfigure
how I, gathered like may, shall be caressed.
Shirin of Armenia on her road in Persia
The page you have requested is restricted to subscribers only. Please enter your username and password and click on 'Continue'.
If you have forgotten your username and password, please enter the email address you used when you joined. Your login
details will then be emailed to the address specified.
If you are already a member and have not received your login details, please email us,
including your name and address, and we will supply you with details of how to access the archived material.
If you are not a member and would like to enjoy the growing online archive of Stand Magazine
, containing poems, articles, prose and reviews,
why not subscribe
to the website today?