Tim Barrus Blog
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Appalachian General
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the appalchian sky made
cheap as if standstill was
attracted to a fading sun
and the miles of parking
lots scattered once again
like the dead chain of
emptying pilgrim souls
who have arrived in the
lower reaches of the hollows
from the civilized east
burning wood for warmth
https://twitter.com/timbarrus
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Tim Barrus, New York Times
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It is difficult to stomach the victorious, scorched-earth Trump has left us with. We are breathlessly irrelevant. Still in shock from 2016. Shock, too, is irrelevant.
It is more than shocking to hear a Republican call for unity. Where is the evidence that Republicans are even slightly, actually seeking unity.…
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Traveling to Golgotha
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Just traveling. As I write this, if you haven’t written on an iPhone, you haven’t lived, we’re barreling through West Virginia. West Virginia kinda creeps me out.
The New York Times has published a piece on adolescent male relationships. Set against the context of what they call: the sleepover.
You…
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Trump is the American fetish
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Trump is a fetish.
An object worshipped for its supposed magical powers because it is considered to be inhabited by a spirit. An American fetish.
Power always becomes, too, a form of sexual desire in which gratification is firmly connected to an abnormal degree to a particular object. Trump.
Yes,…
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It is Not Your World
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you would not know this, it’s just not your world/ the best part of turning tricks is when the trick is jacking off in the bathroom, and they sorta get lost in there/ it means the whore might get the room for the night because daddy will probably flee for…
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ICE IS RAIDING FOSTER HOMES
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Abolish ICE. Send them to hell.
https://twitter.com/timbarrus
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The Drive to the HIV Clinic Far, Far Away
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He usually falls asleep on the way there. I encourage this so I don’t have to listen to all the fear and paranoia. I have my own paranoia.
“We’re here.”
“I don’t want to go in there. Look, there are cops at the door.”
There were cops at the door…
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My Response To The Readers Challenging Me At The New York Times
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Readers pose the question: Where does one begin.
It transcends democracy. I live out of one bag. A camera bag (I am a photographer who also works with adolescent boys with HIV). I teach the boys about memory which is what photography is. The teaching is neurologically based. How memory…
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My Appalachia
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cautionary bones/ we could climb the tree to get through your bedroom window/ even winter’s scalpel cold, and the fireplace was burning oak, and that warm scent would hibernate under your sheets and quilts like caves where your tongue inside my mouth was not unlike walking through the fields with…
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Where Your Eyes Were
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these openings, these candles in the eyes whose sockets saw desire, these and then forgiveness/ what you were was hunted down/ yielding in release, we smile in the dark knowing our names are not our names/ they are simply the names given to us, in rooms of loneliness, we would…