Tim Barrus Blog

Posts tagged with poetry

  1. TRISTAN

    memory departs at night sullenly he was radiant


  2. pretty pictures of you

    the hunger for voyages was in his face https://tim-barrus.format.com/tim-barrus/238927-i-opened-my-eyes


  3. visiting hours

    they arrived when visiting hours were supposedly over of course they arrived when visiting hours were over everyone was supposed to leave the hospital so us inmates could all die alone like guards of the dark under our death sheets and our tongues of foam and our pushing the sky


  4. I Used to Walk These Places

    the air is always cool there, and sleep is what murmurs in the older oaks/ i am just another old man among all the old men who are seen as shadows and what we do is walk around/ i wonder what it is we look at slumped over like we’ve…


  5. WhoWillLoveYou

    WeCanOnlyAffordAMotelRoomfor1. SneakingIn. AFewExtrasNoLoudMusicNoJumpingOnBeds. IAskU:AtTheEndOfAllYourMomentsAtTheEndOfAllYourSorrowsAtTheEndOfAllYourLives. WhoWillLoveYou. WhoWillFight. WhoWillLoveYou. YouSayNoOneLovesYou. ThenWhatTheFuckAmI. 


  6. Ordinary Matter

    the human animal is made of ordinary matter/ the elements the animal is made from have a gravitas and interact with light/ when you left, i could not walk through any of our rooms without being hit in the face with the subsequent warmness that you were still there/ all…


  7. 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/


  8. 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,


  9. 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,


  10. 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


  11. 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


  12. 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


  13. 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


  14. 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


  15. The Birthday Party

    the birthday party became too loud/ you could not handle it/ the other guys were slightly astounded that you panicked/  birthdays in general can be a dark afternoon where everything is forgotten/ i can’t blame you/ the counterfeits of our second selves/ what’s wrong with him he’s freaking out at


  16. Grants, New Mexico

    that day in san francisco you picked me up on the bike after work/ i still had a normal job back then/ editing a magazine/ the entire staff went quickly to the windows to see you, 2stare/ you had consciously chosen to not wear a shirt good for you/ tits


  17. smoke and mirrors

    the smoke he makes is obvious/ the mirrors in his pocket are less than obvious/ there are people who think he’s a magician/ he does have his tricks, but they’re play for pay, and they usually fall for his i am so into you game of reflective, thin ceramic masks/…


  18. Jumping Up and Down

    when the entire fucking world has become too much to fucking bear for one little old day, i jump up and down on the bed up and down up and down on the bed usually i will be joined by other crazy people and we will jump up and down


  19. LES BOUGIES N’A JAMAIS FONDU AUSSI LUMINEUX

    je suis tombé dedans sans bruit/ pas même le vent/ c’était tellement instantané/ c’était comme si on me cherchait dehors/ je ne le recherchais pas/ une autre personne me suffisait toujours/ plus qu’assez/ beaucoup plus qu’assez/ c’était ma curiosité d’être dans un trio qui était une violation de plus de


  20. Mon Incapacité à se Propager

    je boirais du vin rouge de ton trou comme du sang vous avez été cassé ciel et colline votre enfance de la bouche et tout le monde chante à leur horreur ils sont tous seuls ils sont tout seul


  21. Chichén Itzá

    only the earth endures/ bearing upon its awful breast a world that has no ghosts to haunt it/ whipped in the desert/ half broken and overthrown, the lost temples strewn in ruined images, no heads, nothing has been done in stone/ even your family is glad you are dead/ less


  22. Blood and Money

    you were always leaving not in an angry tone but in no tone at all and then you’d be back and crawling into bed most of my kind were awkward in our peasant hostility you were with the boys with money it all came so easily for you knowing as


  23. U Know What I Mean U Know What I Mean

    you burned holes where my eyes had been the nagual doesn’t have to be the desert we had it in our hands not knowing anyone could fall down that vortex and the gravity of the thing could easily crush diamonds into the sound of a piano i was the guy


  24. Your Organizing Abilities

    organizing them is like putting together a bunch of cats in a race to see which cat was the fastest god knows they do not listen to me but maybe it has something to do with the bullhorn


  25. The Black Rainbow You Have Painted

    even the sex with you is always dark and to break it with a lack of hope my cock in your mouth and the antidote oblivious of any infinite book of secrets/ your tongue slipping into my urethra, and no i will not piss in your mouth because i am