Tim Barrus Blog
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Tim Barrus: Post-Industrial, Post-Trip Back To The Sixties
The stairs lead down to an ICBM missile silo. It gets very dark down there and I find it a place of ghosts. But I am exploiting it as location for parts of Dirt Bike Town.
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Tim Barrus: The Blocking of Retro-Imagination
The sky itself was inoculated against the cold. Some hotel chef will cut a swan from the blood ice of the bird itself. Either way, ice was your tongue in me and melts swollen like the light drinks the attic swallows in the abandoned barn where learning how to breathe…
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Tim Barrus, New York Times
The old rules are not the old rules. There is always something older than the rules. The laws of physics demand it. Why are we looking at the electron differently. Is it a wave or is it a ping pong. Are there zillions and zillions of electrons in the universe…
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Tim Barrus Art
The primal hordes. Which one of them waits to be revealed. It would definitely not be the child.
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Tim Barrus, New York Times
The very idea that conservatives can be “cultural warrors” is fraught with problems. Like the nature of reality.
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Tim Barrus, New York Times
Tips will never buy you a life.
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Tim Barrus: Your House Sails Away
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Tim Barrus: Come Nightfall
Come nightfall. The memory of words burning down forgetfulness at the very end. This is where the mausoleum itself smells of ravages. I have found a tree I can build a treehouse in.
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Tim Barrus, New York Times
Segregation is just one branch that slavery built. Alabama is an evil place of ships they make them in Alabama and sea to shining sea. That sea is heating up. How is it a fiction that any species with any curiosity at all or an atomic molecule for a brain…
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Tim Barrus, New York Times
I Was Fucking Him Then He Died So. Like. The dude under you just died. You have permission to leave Dodge. I would just go. The movies would have you rolling the body up in the dining room carpet. I hope you got paid. I would never look for a…