This poem is taken from Stand 248, 23(4) December 2025 - February 2026.
Sun Between High Buildings
won’t always look like this. Cicadas
in the planted trees, won’t always sing.
But there are other sounds to count on.
Ich Ich Ich — Ich kann nur im Präsens sprechen.
I lower the blinds to hide from the landscape,
...
in the planted trees, won’t always sing.
But there are other sounds to count on.
Ich Ich Ich — Ich kann nur im Präsens sprechen.
I lower the blinds to hide from the landscape,
...
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?
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?
