Readers are asked to send a note of any misprints or mistakes that they spot in this poem to support@standmagazine.org

This poem is taken from Stand 225, 18(1) March - May 2020.

Guy R. Beining Four Poems
unfixed cave

1.
i torn down
as if sedimentary
rock, with
skin breaking apart
trying to escape
from my window
like the fly
that had licked
my bones &
played music with
its wings, now
in the shutter
of our wings.

2.
you are stealing
the box of flowers
from my ribcage,
pressing the last
seeds to my lips.


rubble

oct. 1913, petersburg
stamped on dark tress,
3 english avenue.
a precious bell,
soundless, surrounded
the winter palace.
i must arm you
with a new distance
having barked with Rasputin.
peaches was the product
of a serial service.
loose fitting shadows
poured onto her shoulders,
walking down dark,
damp streets.
stare down, stare down.
rasputin coughs, no
speaks in a 
jerky way, playing
with hands of a saviour,
so he thought.


piebald

1.
in patches of grey
the manuscript is
bound, yet its
ruined body falls out.

2.
pause … arise,
purgatory naught.

3.
mediocrity, modernity.
velvet lips,
chintz opening,
penumbra around figure.

4.
shaping a bowl
in blue/black air,
later its ebony depth
is filled with shapes.


start

early start, dawn as
a stain begins
the day, the quarry is
ready for light.
o, that deplorable
eye of daylight
slaps the face turning.
if i was
the moon, or
egg of it
i might sense the
impingement of night
& rip up its purple skin.
now, on silent screen
lifting lens of daylight
a jagged triangular
cloud looms.

This poem is taken from Stand 225, 18(1) March - May 2020.

Readers are asked to send a note of any misprints or mistakes that they spot in this poem to support@standmagazine.org
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