Tim Barrus: Dirt Bike Town

Tim Barrus, Dirt Bike Town

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Tim Barrus: In the Thick Dust Our Village, the One Convicts Scratched To Salt, and From It Corn Whiskey Trickles Down the Logging Road

The one thing we know is that the death of light has turned inside out, and the riverbed changed the diversion of sound, sight, and memory. Time itself was another Irish priest slipping beneath a little boat that carried the vaunted authority along in scant excess among the vultures because…

Tim Barrus: I Don’t Always Wear a Helmet I Have Been Driving Dirt Bikes Since 1962 And No Accidents No Helmet Means I Can Get Away With It

Spilling from their numbers, their throats were their throats. The swallowing. The wisdom of the fools has no secrets having been limited to blood at first, and then a tongue in my mouth is to sweets as a special name day, but as pictures, the moon is down, and it…

Tim Barrus: Censorship, New York Times

IT’S EASIER TO JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP. BUT WHEN YOU’RE ASKING THE WRONG QUESTIONS, SUDDENLY, YOU ARE THE FOCUS OF THEIR PROBLEMS. THE NEW YORK TIMES HAS SILENCED ME. I HAVE TO GO DO SOME MESCALINE. AND GET THE SMELL OFF.

Tim Barrus: The Laws of Physics Do Not Require A Cop With a Gun There Must Be Another Way 2 Run a Railroad

Tim Barrus: Angels Are Never Real

Tim Barrus: You Become the Camera

Tim Barrus: The Hotel Seems Much Older, Like It’s Another Age

On blackboards. A craven scream. Most of the population of the planet had killed themselves. And their children. These would be the lucky ones. We got left here. We were pockets of scribes and tribes. We would kidnap you, throw you into a van pushed and wrapped with duck tape…

Tim Barrus: One Piece At A Time

What appears to be a wall, a force field, can, in fact, be a tunnel. “Are we always going to sleep on the floor of your friends.” “Are you complaining.” “Don’t you have any friends with a bed. I liked the hotel. “You cannot afford the hotel.” “But you liked…

Tim Barrus: I Hear The Secrets That You Keep

It’s closed.

Tim Barrus: Kansas

 Carnival was almost done. I am a communist. I am impotent. Mark Warren called. I have autism. Make it go away. I see timelines and angels. I listen to the voice of the people who have taken up residency inside my head. Another meaningless diagnosis. I am demented. I am…

Tim Barrus: I Was In The Crowd in Wisconsin When the Killing Spree Went Down

I am with Antifa. America is a fascist country. I am a communist that the New York Times abuses on a regular basis. There are no black people who work as comment moderators. Talk, talk, talk. Our writing is evaluated by old white men who hate harder than I do.…

Tim Barrus: Americana

Night fires, phantoms, and the flag. If there are small children, burn their dolls.

Tim Barrus: Our Shadows Are Blue With Cold

Tim Barrus, New York Times I am a communist. When you’re living this close to the edge, migration will take you to wherever it wants you to go, you will go there, whose rooms are the darker ones, the ones from the woods who had no shoes. Children should have…

I WANT THE PHOTOGRAPHS TO HAVE SOMETHING OFF KILTER SOMETHING STRANGE

You would be incinerated. You were not beamed up. Your molecules would heat, expand, and turned into a sea of electrons. There would not be much evidence that you had ever been here. The only question that remained open for Homo sapiens was one that asked Why Are You Here.…

Autumn’s House

Many voyages have started here. Many voyages have ended here, too.

my chameleons

It would be with you the rest of your life. Killing him had not been easy. It looked like an accident because it was an accident. There are no accidents.

Never Explain

Frost Far Voices

GOTHS

I am a communist. The Landowner’s Defense Fund for Clown Car Corruption has argued for a government authoritarian takeover that goes back to the fall of Rome. And then, the Goths came ready to party. We all know what happened to the Goths. Someone’s tape recorder should write a book.…

My Bike Is the Road Master

Obliquity

YOU ON BIKES IS EXTRA

Tim Barrus Photography