Tim Barrus Blog
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Tim Barrus: Dirt Bike Town
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tim barrus: upon another haemorrhage
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We are renting our existence, and the question – why are you here – has nothing to do with landlords, & everything to do with death.
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We are renting our existence, and the question – why are you here – has nothing to do with landlords, and everything to do with all the voices of survival. I am here to be here. Among the rats. Among the criminals. Among the junk of abandonment and cars, they’re…
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Tim Barrus: It’s About Predation and Predation & as a Species, Predation Has Not Solved Shit. OrDoWePay 2CreateStabilityCovenant the
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We attended the same Junior High School, but I could never understand how (Malcom was older) and could continue to stare you down and he was right. Right about everything. The whole of it. All the pain. All the suffering. He knew. I thought he might be bones in the…
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TIM BARRUS: EACH PREDATOR WAS NEUROFEEDBACK’S NEXT BILLION YEARS
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look homeward, demon/ only the bad kids went swimming at the gravel pits our tits were dark/ with the memories of the men/ who used to beat us and beat us and beat us/ we did fight back/ you could lose a tooth or an eye if you did/ the…
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Tim Barrus: Poetry Is As Old As Rocks So Bend Your Landscape 2 My Will
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Tim Barrus: You Numberless Infinities
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How now, you secret, bones and shadows, do you explain such explicit nerves as having never trembled.
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Tim Barrus, New York Times
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It seems like everyday, I am simply picking up the pieces of systems that no longer work. You could put capitalism in that existential group. I am a communist. It is always amusing to stand on the sidelines and watch capitalism twist in the wind even as it implodes. Then,…
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TIM BARRUS: BACK THEN, WE JUST BROKE THE GLASS TO GET THE BIKE. TODAY, WE WOULD BREAK THE GLASS TO STEAL THE BIKE.
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I know my thieves. They are like knowing Beethoven on any car radio or the smells of opening the doors to a grocery store you have never been in before. Thieves are like potatoes. They never fuck in church. That I know of.
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Tim Barrus: What People Want To Believe Is Not My Fucking Problem. You Never Listen. You Just Go Off And Do Your Own Stuff.
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No one writes about outrage. Not from the Inside Out. Outrage that is giving birth, and there it was. Everyone staring. Writers are timid and fearful. They want to win awards, have big sales, offend no one.
I offend everyone. That is just how it is.