The setting sun has a way
of creeping up on you
with cherry red coloured dreams
nights as naughty as little gnomes
flitting about in escapades
of soft silk lusts.

Once the night embraces you
with its cloak of stars
velvet summer laziness
and tomorrows never there

its time to take the fullness of today
into the emptiness of tomorrow
and slip into that twilight zone
where all the magic materializes
on why we love these special spring days.

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago

A song for my beloved
A poem written by a poet
A rhythm of soul with no hatred
A long lasting love that will never be expired

If u wish for a happy day
I too will pray

Im so grateful to own these eyes
So grateful to see your smiles
What do you feel deep inside?
Why feelings you try to hide?

wind whips around the eaves,
whistling by the Velux,
rattling the back gate.

which consequences do I own,
whose hands are inside mine,
what veins belong to me,
and where do they lead?

what if the walls don't hold tonight?
what if they crumble and break?
and I get ****** out -
the contents of my room
shooting through the sky,
burrowing deep into my skin,
piercing the clear, cold night?

_________

It's settling down now,
but you always knew it would.
These things pass, and tomorrow,
you'll collect the detritus scattered on the road.

You sink deep into the pile
of old blankets
and duvet
and wisps of remembrance

You're safe here
at least until tomorrow,
at least until tomorrow,
at least until tomorrow,

latenight feelings
over daily existence
nebulous thoughts
under clear eyes

I know no matter what I say or do.The words will sound so very hollow.For I am forever a stranger to you.Just a name in a sea of others.Fellow yarn spinners.Snakes and thieves friends and brothers.You cannot read the truth from a lie.The recluse writter the drunkand just another guy.A page filled with words andempty meanings.A seedy downtown theater that shows the best latenight screenings.My face is unknown  but my soul is already there.Blind are the truths of a scetchy past.So I remain forever a stranger toanyone who may care.Beautiful eyes that go unseen.Shadows on a clear night.So is my nightmare and how is your dream?I cant say I'll ever know the uptown citys respect.Im more of the twisted citys slums and back alleys favorite reject.I remove the ******* to expose thethe gritty side of what to me is brutal and true.I ride through the darkest part night.To remain forever a stranger to you.

I'll see you around, but
                                    not again on this empty floor,

the two of us in blankets, slept on our clothes,
woodgrain just out of reach.

Waiting at the station,
the 5 a.m. trolley home,
hands wrapped around my fare,

There's some memory of a dingy lastnight bar
where we chain-smoked through
the muted stop-motion of late-night,
whiskey breath and fingertips,
tracing the side of a face, the ends of nerves,

lost

in the traffic river crowd footfall,
at some patio latenight coffeehouse,
we were cinematic, mysterious under
the mercury lights that lit the sidewalk, that staged us

full, small, like hands wrapped around a cup with our name on it.

Thinking in sparked lighters that
sting your thumb and cut your
lungs
Glints in your eyes and burns in
that 0.2 of a second
Scarlet grapefruit that puckers your inner cheeks
Breakfast you've only seen on
Latenight  Television, behind the couch, in secret
it's been years since they've
promised your order so where is it
you scream
You scratch, scathing, panting
promising to yourself
of sweetness
bitter sugar

I miss you
all this day
but I can't show it
by just telling you from a latenight text
or by just saying it in front of you
or doing something for you
because you will not read it, aren't you?
you will not hear it, aren't you?
and you will not assume it, aren't you?

because basically,
you really don't care about my feelings anymore.

/f.r/

Now
I posted a poem or two
which grabbed the eyes
of a dozen or so
like glue;
but now I’d like someone to tell me
what I should do

1
I mean,
I got a few followers, right…
“Latenight ****** started following you”
said the notice from the website;
and: “ Moonface at Window started following you”
but I got no comments from the followers
so I have no idea what sort of people they are -
and now, hey, I’m so afraid of all these followers
(these Moonies and Loonies)
I constantly look back over my shoulders
to see if they are following me
And everywhere I go
every other person looks so sus
and when I’m out
(wont to water more often, as it happens at my age)
I visit public toilets (McDonald’s is often cleanest)
and I get this feeling
(deep down in me)
my followers are hiding
in the ceiling
watching me
dadadidado –
But please, O don’t look down on me!

And the rest of you decent people -
will you please tell me what to  dadadidado?


2
And look,
I got all these likes -
which is good, right?
“Pimply Whanker liked this”
“***** TouchBottom liked this”
is all it says
And don’t you hate it
when they don’t leave a comment? –
And now, I’ll never know
what it is they liked…


Can someone fix me right -
what should I dadadidado??

Lunchtime - I sit
In my corner
Watching
Tanya

She leans
Against a chair
One knee
Upon the seat

Slowly
I see
Her raise
The coke can

Full fat stuff
She doesn't care
It's that
I admire

A fullish girl
**** and ***
Round of face
Dyed red hair

Her name
Strikes me
Tanya
Sounds like ***

Instant guilt
Consumes
My thoughts
Far from pure

Tanya
Who I imagine
Naked on the floor
Atop my Bowie records

Tanya
Whose name
Has long
Been my favourite

Tanya
Tied - bound
Screaming
In the night

Tanya
Taking my hand
At a funeral
On a wet Tuesday

Tanya
In pink
My colour
Of ***

Tanya
Crying
At the sad part
Of the latenight film

Tanya
Crawling
Across the
Bedroom floor

She places
The red can
On the table
Not caring

Tanya...
Tanya...
Tanya...
Tanya......

jackson browne's Late for the Sky is an uncanny song
illuminating the moment right before you split
with someone you love
the latenight time when despite all the swerving
you see the end of the road
the grieving and inevitability
built right into the overtones
i liked it before i had a girlfriend
and when i had one and we built a world together
and broke up
i listened to it and shook my head in recognition
and thought what a good song

What would the world be like if there was a bunch of me's running around? Would it be a whole bunch of me walking around singing or would the world be walking around reading the book the color of water?
Would it be quiet like a desert or loud like how latenight in chicago in the rough part of the city is?
What about if i ask when you think about violence what pops in your head? I can tell you what I think about when i hear violence. I think police sirens , ambulance & hospitals.
Where im from you hear people being loud , people beggin for change?

When we were sat
in the Jackson Square dusklight,
stain-glassed and half cut
on forever-changes and tall boys,

you cried almost all the tears
and smiles you’ve had stored
and I cried and laughed
the belly laughs of love and newness.

We both agreed, this
was the first day of the rest of our lives, but
isn’t five years is a long time
to have not been living?

We lived fiercely in the latenight roller disco,
we lived ambitious when I tried to be French,
we lived terrified in doctors offices
and waiting rooms, waiting -

for the first day of the rest of our lives
was some years ago now,
long before ringed proof,
and I’ve lived,
really lived from that day in knowing

it’s you, always you
from the first day of our lives to the last.