Tim Barrus Blog
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tim barrus: for me, it was just a distant land
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The yellow glow of the porch light attracted moths and men.
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tim barrus: even the air hurt
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that
time
in
tents
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tim barrus: divided by our wanderings
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by the time the communists arrived
he was now a pretty girl
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Tim Barrus: Someone Stop Me
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Be Nice I am always nice. Always. Sometimetimes. It shuts down who are you and then someone fucks me in the mouth and I kinda remember. Nahh. There’s no there their arrest is overrated it was a setup and so was this. I knew it it. You know it now.…
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Tim Barrus: Supply Lines
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Really, who would trust a politician. Really, who would trust – I don’t know – men. “How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags! What is’t you do?” We are simply hunter-gatherers called Republicans. Damned if you do. Damned if you don’t. Corporations do not sit around and discuss all…
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Tim Barrus: Rember That Guy On Park Benches That Was Me On 59th. Why Are We Here. It Is My Job 2Ask It.
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I am a communist. Masks are nothing new to me. When we were doing this stuff together around collage age shut up what were they doing now. Le women. I have been here before. No one knows who is an Officer of the Deluge and fucking shit hoped one was…
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Tim Barrus: Gatekeepers are Overlords
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I regret writing the word autism. A hand grenade. I regret writing period. Being attacked is draining. I burned my books. I hate them. 37 meds a day cost 7K a month. Where are the writers who live with mental illness, too. In Electric Lit, I do talk about hearing…
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Tim Barrus: Grandma’s House
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I would climb this tree. My grandmother would emerge from the house with a broom. “You are going to fall from that tree, boy.”
They thought autism was retardation. It can be. But not this time.
It was not my mother’s fault. She tried her best. I was anything but…
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I ran the dogs at the soccer field this morning. They are now cold-ass-exhausted, but they sure had a great time. No chasing geese.
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Tim Barrus: Member of the Wedding
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I can’t believe we have mesmerized females with so much wedding porn that we have to consult Karl Marx to know if the culture can take the strain from one more wedding leading straight to bankruptcy. Just buy her the refrigerator.