Tim Barrus Blog

  1. water


  2. Storytelling

    https://timbarrus.tumblr.com/

  3. Tim Barrus Poetry

    his solitude was the soft breathing of a morgue everyone in morgues breathes like that our road trips together had us following the grateful dead whose heroin bones had that damp smell of honeysuckle just outside the farmhouse door https://timbarrus.tumblr.com/

  4. Most Galaxies

    most galaxies will hang out near bigger galaxies/ in orbit not unlike satellites/ large galaxies routinely collide with smaller galaxies in a violence warped beyond all recognition where newly induced bursts of star-forming regions escape the idea of time itself, and then there’s humanity, watching like a nest of hawks,

  5. Tim Barrus Poetry

    but what is poetry/ i have a small plot of land back in the big woods where i grow things/ secret things, things humming a little bit, sometimes in a thin minor key, humming impatiently in whispers that i have returned i have returned/ to sit here and write things,

  6. Wooden Porch Swing in the Distance

    behind the house, and just beyond the little woods of oaks, there’s an ancient cemetery where the confederate dead are buried in their sackcloths/ six of us are buried in here, too/ civil war is just another vulture’s boots/ the cemetery itself is dead/ not unlike a darkened theatre, and

  7. That Boat Has Left the Dock

    i bought a boat from old man hughes for five bucks/ it was really only worth three/ the boat leaks/ i can’t afford to fix it but who wants a boat anyway/ i do/ i take the boat out to the middle of the lake and sit there with a

  8. drinking with the dog

    u sitting on the bed again/ explaining yourself 2 me/ u looking downcast/ u unable to meet my gaze/ and this secret life u live is supposed to be unknown 2me/ please/ i have known u since the age of the dinosaurs/ like i give a flying fuck/ but i

  9. like ships

    there is just no possible fucking way that someone at some point is not going to feel left out/ i never did allow that to bother me/ something that pours from him, stealing moments we all are thieves, in a cataract of tenderness and cruelty upon some weak, plastic life

  10. you carried him

    you have carried him on your back through oceans of your sweat for a long while, now/ we both knew it was only a matter of time/ the big old boogeyman, time/ before you’d push back/ hard/ that way you push back when you push back/ it is always a