http://slow.writerscafe.org/MateoBigfish The original writings of author Matthew Bass en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776051757 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 I took the 56 bus downtown to a place once real, or at least in imagination. The flat windows and cold steel that scraped against the winter sky felt like human parking lots hanging over the abandoned shoulders of people running back and forth, while the homel.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/1060001/ Am I insane? Blessed with trials of unclean angels perfected with imperfection, mirrors of experience reflected in a cracked iris. The holy face that follows comforts and watches over with a holy smile radiating in stark starry sleepless pre-dawn mor.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/1052203/ I am alone today,     Alone in a cobweb     with friends clamoring     from the kitchen to the porch.     Alone in the jokes bouncing off antique windows,     alone in my own smiles and laughs, and an ominous feeling   &.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/1047820/ You are not here, I am not there while a gaping hole bleeds from my side; And I am emaciated. Artifacts are everywhere: From Governor's Island to the trails left behind in Spain to the now barely audibles of all the times the words "I love you" were spoke.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/1047819/ I started smoking again   It's terrible   but, I'll buy another pack soon   it helps me think:     Hell is cold and unlit   a metaphor for distance from love-   so I kiss you as much as I can   with the vain hope you can.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/1047818/ Tornados form in the distance,   products of wild imaginations   on rolling highways.  Wisps   of n*****s barely swirling   from green clouds turning above   God´s country in opposite directions   with unspoken understanding that.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/1047816/ The sun beats down on torn fences abandoned yards, and broken cement of a World´s Fair stoop             leading toward sidewalks once walked by prostitutes soliciting under the noses of millionaires who pass by the cigar sm.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/1047814/ I changed my status and proclaimed:   "I was over you"   I lied, I´m sorry   it was a parlor trick I didn´t fall for, the same way I fell over the rocks in Cuenca where we kissed the way people fall over themselves in romantic m.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/1047813/ (You) Sublime and calm, pecking and cooing at the unseen side of my brain. A breathless hug pinning my body to the floor asking me to come hard and let go this time; sometimes it´s on the floor sometimes it´s on the bed sometimes it´s in a bo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/1047812/ Is it to much to ask for something more than   dopamine and ((pulsating)) cromatics     beating and shaking   against the walls   counting time   until   your middle-aged 2 A.M. destiny...   that never seems quite as goo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/1047810/ Oh world! (blah). Poets! What have you become?   Directionless without Bréton´s authority Obscure like early Rimbaud museum pieces in the attic trapped on this plane, marking revolutions from bored jaded middle-classes. Alone on a stage with Kevin.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/1047809/ The cops are at the front door because sometimes, love is violent and lingers on much longer than it should.   The broken glass will stay on the floor because I´m stuck to the chair with three empty wine bottles and the yelling from the bedroom&nbsp.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/1047808/ I will not pine nor chase you through bad movies full of chichés when you already have a piece of my heart I don´t want back. It looks better on you.     I´ll be there tommorrow   if you need it, just like&.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/1047807/ Xanax laced with coffee     on a dirty mattress  next to a cold shower  inside the crumbling doorstep of the flat.   A short walk     from a subway haunted by ghosts     with biological clocks   falling like exchange rates   &nbsp.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/1047803/ I held your hand               in a red theater                  with hundreds                       of scarlet Gods    &nbsp.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/1047802/ True beauty: Tiny pixels of ugliness surrounded by collages of true ugliness       It´s afternoon hidden by street lights                 and       the look of death   w.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/1047800/ I promise I will   smash unplane mirrors,   let the stars align   like all the times before with riddles cased in medieval stone and shared cups of tea   as we fall into Saturn´s embrace   without ever saying a word. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/1047799/ I will sit here. Drink another beer smoke another cigarette, alone.  And contemplate nothing.   Meanwhile, Drunk Punk Mike stands on his corner with his white witch wife talking about 1977 when people were alive.   Larri.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/1047797/ The intersection of a third world market: An insurgent, and old man a woman, or a child broken under dawn; sloppy pools of bone and flesh. What they never saw will never see again under the terrible orange sun.     And the ma.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/1047796/ I fell into the concrete when you turned your head at a harsh inward angle, and replied without passion. I imploded into a cubist painting when I saw your hand move toward mine, until you became aware and pulled it back into your abdomen. I.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/1047794/ The first drag sends you to space       in the fog of cherry red light bulbs       inside large windows of the meat market.       Like a child, beckoned by the perfume       of window taps: imagining what each one  .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/1047793/ The muscles tighten The chest protrudes The shoulders broaden           The endorphins                           fly                &nb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/942947/ stupid audiences are no worse than boring poets,boring musicians, boring artists boring philosophers. If the world is  a stage, the audience: (you) amoral nymphs gorging off the sangría pouring out  of my wrists. I am a prostitiute. We´l.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/942946/ I lived drank and wasted away, without ever knowing from one day to the next before the one after that.   Many nights(years later) you were in front of me with a red dress. So real I could touch you. So I did! Then I held you, kissed you&nb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/942943/ Why do you revile!   this book of poetry   I read?     Why do your stubby   fingers shake! with   anger?     Why does your upper lip quiver?   as your blood pressure   rises! Spatially imprisoned, &nb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/942941/ The years have begun to pass with seasons watching winter slowly squeezed out by the sun belt inching north, to where frosts no longer sing the dreary melody whistled in the Februrary chill.  And death in all of it´s tricky forms from; the poin.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/942937/ 4 3 2 1 from a release of muscle contracting tension the rest of life begins on a spring afternoon strolling along the river... ...and it reverberates through-not-so-very-old-bones. "Not going it alone this time" says the invisible sidekick.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/942936/ 480 479 478 477 476 475 474 473 472 471 470 460 459 458 457 456 455 454 453 452 451 450 449 448 447 446 445 444 443 442 441 440 439 438.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/942935/ I´m fed up with the monotony of waking up to the same routine everyday; the same problems the same worries the same aspirations the same goals, roaming like a nomad drunk on the present in the early hours of this city, this lifestyle. I&ac.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/942932/ A web of vericose cracks tip-toe across the concrete on the walk way behind my home I come to from time to time. Here, I can always breathe easily under the artificial light and Februrary chill, then feel my worries float away into the cloudless night und.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/942930/ Sometimes it becomes too much to drag this suitcase down the assmebly line, the same mechanical routine.    I re-read your e-mails everyday to soften the metal edges.   I consume, consume, consumed by lonliness waste, waste, wasting aw.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/942928/ tweeting like a stock ticker across the t.v. screen the countdown begins                     3                    2                &nbs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/942926/ like ashes dripping from the cherry of a forbidden cigarette, on a cold morning drunker than I intended to be. The bile builds up in the back of my throat as I hover helplessly over the toilet, wishing my stomach would make a decision.&nbsp.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/942924/ I wish I could´ve been there... I wish I could´ve never let that happen I wish the wi-fi would not be so fickle. The beauty and joy you exude are not for the insecure or faint of heart.                    &nb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/924888/ Four handsome men   sing lullabys:   security   oppurtunity   pride   defense.   Four monsters   bleed through the pores   of a dapper´s mask:   repression   nationalism   patriotism &.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/924887/ I think about how much I miss you   on my solitary walks from Lavapíes   to Sol to Malasaña,   Along the river through Imperíal   to La Latina to El Palacio Real.   The sullen eyes of Africa   with their unspoken epitap.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/924883/ break under the slightest tinge of pressure   in the palm of a baby´s hand   mended and caressed   like ductile clay.   peel back to   a juicy core of tears     soaking into the lifelines   like a sugary hug, soft as mi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/924881/ do not be nor will not write of trees so very beautiful or close eyes wide to smell flowers fragrance from a box made of wood diluted, deluded down the sewer of sweet prose with scheme´s ryhme concocted to make fragile hearts&nbs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/924880/ (Sometimes you have to suffer to be with the one you love)   Some nights it becomes so unbearable on the dark 4 a.m. Malasaña streets swamped in the cologne of liberation and sketchy prose, because something is always missing, something very deep. .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/924878/ I am alone, connected to everything I touch I see I love. I am God with unwashed feet unnoticed, laughed at, spit upon ignored, revered, respected, all encompassing. I live in alleys with the trash. A hero to no one, a bystander i.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/924877/ The cops wait in their wolfpack   huddled together in the cold,   for the perfect moment   to pounce.  But the plaza   is vacant, and the snow   inches          d           o &nbsp.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/906745/ "Look at your feet when you walk"   not up, cuss words unspoken   "personal space a*****e", broken   cement, jackhammer, hemorrhaging money   smog, green smog, the spector of   defeatist chattering mindlessly   endless status symbols. &nbsp.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/906743/ Repression   is the kind of freedom   that you can snap your fingers to   (as long as it´s catchy)   from   point a-point b-point c.       Thoughts               free &n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/905196/ The most elegant prose cannot begin to describe the gulf                       between us.   (but)   Every morning I feel   &.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/905191/ Beloved,       There was an empty space       blocking your imprint on the bed.       The warmth of your skin       and the contours of your silhouette       buzzed through the nerve endings &nbs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/905189/ In Zway Ethiopia there is a sign on the highway erected by the local caustic soda factory that warmly welcomes you to the town.  It even proudly boasts how many years it has been there, helping the economic development of Zway.  There are a number of green houses cultivating flowers, and e.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/905188/ The threads of my existence wilt like an aging flower, only 118 days more for 8 years come to an end.   A ragged blue hoodie a sixth sense, and an empty core dense with life pull me to the falling sunset rising under the horizon.   I d.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/905187/ The point     I walk from     waits passively     at the end of the circle                                        The Tip    .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/905185/ The best poems are forgotten before they´ve been written.   I                   II              &nb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/905184/ Beauty you speak of in your pompous spoken word, makes me feel ugly http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MateoBigfish/905181/