top of page

Mason Gates


this must

be relevant

or you are not

in that room

planning to marry:

first thing

in the morning dogs

who protect infants

the light


in there is

gold settling and

dust to be breathed


over beds and

their tables

a dropped telephone

its warble

fuckery but

soft as rocks

in your mouth



you were

a ghost

for so long

it is difficult

to understand

that now

you are



a phrase

and washed

your legs

with it,

the whorl



why is it


a thing

who does

not matter

still dies?

let me

keep you

a while


you with

an eye for

snap, in


lugging a droll

smoke trail.


Mason Gates is a poet living in Porto.

Recent Posts

See All

Miles Cayman

Ø I think your name is less like itself is more like your middle name and most like the way you've held your pencil ever since you practiced cursive, and the ridge of callus precisely on your finger t

Javeria Hasnain

I ONLY CAME TO SEE GOD on the altar. When all the guests had left, & the smell of tuna had wafted far off into the ocean from where it came. No one truly knows. I waited for you, even though I knew yo

Clay Matthews

The First Law of Robotics What kind of malfunction brought you, little daffodil, with the afterbirth of an early February frost; what maker of clocks, what loosed screw; what turned and left the heart

bottom of page