It Is All A Blur The wild waters of this roar are made in the fortitude of salt. Just salt. Miles and miles of salt. Mountains of salt. And the bones that fell there. – Tim Barrus Tweet tim-barrus tim-barrus-and-the-new-york-times tim-barrus-poetry new-york-times memory-is-an-asshole Please enable JavaScript to view the comments powered by Disqus.