Matthew Bass : Writing

A Last Kiss(The First Of More)

A Last Kiss(The First Of More)

A Poem by Matthew Bass


We are destined to be intertwined I am stuck to the chair with three empty wine bottles. The cops are at the front door because sometimes, love is vio..
Beloved (For Priya)

Beloved (For Priya)

A Poem by Matthew Bass


We will: chase death robots on trains with grass railroad tracks through victorian alleys. walk down the steps of Lourdes inside the Pyrenean foothill..
Sunday Afternoon

Sunday Afternoon

A Poem by Matthew Bass


Cigarettes in the drizzle baggage under the eyelids, there are no fools to find on the dark side of the the stage. Colorless Sundays are appra..
God Sits In A Dark Room With Thick Glasses

God Sits In A Dark Room With Thick Glasses

A Poem by Matthew Bass


In the tangle of the spider web heels and square-toes click against wet microchips. Status update personas, streaming live feeds through the artifici..
Wait For Tommorrow

Wait For Tommorrow

A Poem by Matthew Bass


I love you, but I will not chase you through the loops and tunnels of your inadequacies, everytime you see your wedding dress waving magically in the ..
Chinese Suicide

Chinese Suicide

A Poem by Matthew Bass


Henry Miller had a point lost somewhere in his prose. Daggers laced with fatigue and modern living. Inside the empty mattress on the f..
Only If Our Promises Could Be What We Wish They Were

Only If Our Promises Could Be What We Wish They We..

A Poem by Matthew Bass


We say Good-bye, with the most sincere "Parts of our Heart" The less it means, the more we must "hold on to it" Honesty is terrible and cold. But, th..
Ode To Zway

Ode To Zway

A Poem by Matthew Bass


I love you, because you are so much more human I love you, because you will be there waiting When the final coffee ceremonies turn to hugs, tears, and..
He Still Watches T.V On The Couch

He Still Watches T.V On The Couch

A Poem by Matthew Bass


The old man still looks tougher than life, even if there are a few more dents in his "don´t mak´em like they used to" armor. I told him to..
Distorted Perfections In The Bus Station

Distorted Perfections In The Bus Station

A Poem by Matthew Bass


Cañas keep me awakewhile my woman ispassed out on my shoulderinside a bar withpuke-aqua colored walls.The drunk man walks back and forthpacing ..