Memory’s Machine

lost afternoons justly placed each mirror could be manifest beyond sex work is still work and sweat and humiliation just like any other form of work an arrangement of perspective sheets, walls, scrubbing floors in unison our lips in full abundance we brought along our gods from the pawn shops

Except Sometimes

except sometimes your whispers tell us what you think it is we want to know and you are as always right about a lot of things/ like how pain and loneliness are often the same thing and your books of wandering arms outstretched have brought you here/ https://timbarrusart.tumblr.com

Your Photographs

beneath what photographic darkness does your panic ride and makes no promises to return, in fact, i have never heard you promise shit/ like some kind of human contract with anyone on the planet might elude your perpetual despair/ an exile in the innocence of graves/ how many tombs have…

Fuck World AIDS Day

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The Attic Gods Came By Today

the attic gods came by today from behind time where they like to be concealed/ bearing the imprint of the din, the attic gods of history’s bin/ taking out what had been thrown away, and terrorizing us to explain it/ https://timbarrus.tumblr.com

Julian

childhood is a dog and pony show

i no longer listen to them much beyond what they do inside their skins i do not seek answers there are none that work the whole dog and pony show we call childhood are answers that are not answers they are pre- programmed stereotypes in pink times ten and in…

they have all arrived

waving words and wands what terrible days nostalgia makes for loverboys who ask you to hurt them and when you refuse you tell them (as patiently as you can) that it’s the other way around and you will not hurt this one or this one or this one because by…

the grinding gods

et dans cet abandon dix fois tout voyage implique un mouvement nous supposons gonflé de but certains d’entre nous sont simplement debout gelé au sol où le patrimoine est un chien errant parti faim et boite loin de les dieux broyeurs dont stationnaires ailes colorées en jaune par la nicotine…

your clandestine appearances

you are if nothing else. consistent. the modified us asked you to stop coming around and sucking out the ideas we have in our heads. leave us alone to do our art. but. no. your world is still, and clear. and. mean. there are some. precious things. you will never…

After Wandering

after wandering some through America, land of the umbilical alone, you begin to see fungal family graveyards infected in a different light people just staring at the rain in a parking lot cuz they were in it https://timbarrusart.tumblr.com

Mainly The Lot of Us Are Puppets

pretending no one pulls our fucking strings we cannot be manipulated baby, you are so manipulated your spcks glow

SomeNightsSlipping

pretending no one and nothingcan pull your puppet stringsyou, stumbling on bridges, you a moving target look at whathappened to us, the skygrew dark the skygrew light, the sky despite our farburning flame of delusionaldream palaces free of strings

the lone and narrowing

the lone and narrowing but now your left breast down to fatal wreckage behind the blur of cancer’s tomb you were at risk because the other one hiv has disowned diseased outcomes deep-buried and banished to the marrow’s snow whose frigid hands grab us all seeing as the sun has…

feeding the lion

it’s like feeding the lion the ferocity of bone/ there are no other beds for him to sleep in/ his brother’s cock is a hardening of the weight he carries in the gravitas of the secret whips he knows he cannot speak to or for or of/ thin-framed and the…

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…

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

dazzled or enough

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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…

leaving you

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1933

when death is best

you split

the proper perspective through silence and then to be pulled away naked by the guards in fields you split into the wet wounds a death of fences https://timbarrus.tumblr.com/

steps worn in autumn’s light

steps laid out flat by leaves of oaks and too many children up and down commissioned with troubles from beyond the horrors of their families who says families are sacred families must be watched by watchmen ready to snatch the damaged from the damaged if i am carried by rags…

THE CAMERA SEES THROUGH YOU

the camera sees through you because the camera does not take photographs by itself it needs you it sees through you it uses you it needs you to pick it up it is only through you that the camera has any meaning or relevance at all it is through your…