Tim Barrus Blog
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The Family Ate the Family Dog
the family ate the family dog appalachia is unconditional surrender replacement parts and arguments poverty and the truck shop passing through the bedroom window swallowed by the cardboard that has replaced what glass is left school bus in the morning frost of growling smoke pickled meats and vomit, dark corridors,…
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pacemakers and arrhythmia
i will never leave appalachia/ i know that/ it just is/ i do not love appalachia/ i do not know how to love a place/ i hold no romance for it to my naked breast/ the beauty of the blue ridge is more ruthless than you can know/ that soft,…
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Ginger’s Pasture
when old ned died, we had to drag the horse’s body with a tractor to a pit i had spent a day digging/ i had loved that horse, and could not shake the feeling that we were hurting him by dragging his dead weight with a rope tied around his…
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THESE APPALACHIAN HILLS
ginger is never here/ he tends bar in asheville, and he’s a drug dealer/ like i give a shit/ people make their own decisions/ consequences come and go/ he’s a great fuck, and we spent two weeks here a long time ago/ appalachia is about many things/ a long time…
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in these appalachian hills
in these appalachian hills groaning under not an anchor but a lack of them reading itself is like the scrap dealer bent so close to poverty one can only wonder why it is white people mainly cannot bring themselves to understand that reading is a warship that has kissed the…
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and hovering
i belong in that place with the sacks of seed spilled upon the fallow ground salted with milkweed and armed with cameras and hovering
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dazzled or enough
https://timbarrusart.tumblr.com
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The Nights At Large
where some eternal blue glistens and snarling hauls its streets with the lips of whores hey bigboy gotta cigarette and you woke up there too exhausted to sleep among the stars or slices of the sun the concrete sidewalk had been jabbed into your mouth of boots where no half-broken…
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leaving you
https://timbarrus.tumblr.com
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Tim Barrus in the New York Times
AT NIGHT, THEY PACE you were sleeping and I would sculpt your naked body with the contours of my tongue/ you were that flawless carnal bleeding from your hole/ the inside of my mouth was eros drowned in blood/ in the cold hours of the night, you were awake and…