Tim Barrus Blog
Posts tagged with tim-barrus-poetry
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a quiet emptiness
the rut of emptiness up to the broken hills/ ravages without variety amid the timid spilling of the stars at night/ clicking with the crickets all the sad way to a parking lot/ https://timbarrus.tumblr.com
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in a snow globe/
you cannot compare my life or the life i have lived and cherry pick it apart, and then stand back, and pretend you have accomplished anything/ i know exactly how bizarre it sounds to people i call the normals/ i am not sure anyone is truly normal, but i do…
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after the first frost, you have to leave/
there are no glass windows, only screens/ i have seen it in the winter when you have to take a broom and push the snow drifts out/ you want to leave before the first frost arrives with it fox cub bite/ access is by canoe or kayak/ only a few…
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And There Was the Turning of the Earth
the various cures that evade us — temporarily — are always seen as impermanent as his tongue inside my mouth and the tower was your eyes gone wrong/ what is evident is that we are dust as well/ the sun from another state was the way you turned in bed/…
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Tim Barrus Photography
i could smell his guts a mile away/ if he looks utterly privileged and has had everything handed to his martyred person, that is because he is privileged and has had everything handed to his martyred person/ in the winter he does not care but stirs when the morning cums…
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Stealing Cars
now is a good time for us to be stealing cars/ there is this annoying thing called food/ in quarantine, all the cars are just sitting there waiting for someone like us to arrive and release the car from bondage/ we really really really get bondage/ we tried it for…
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Carnival
on his bumble way to town/ they are all always on their bumble way to town/ this one was hitch-hiking/ through the dust and sweat/ he climbs in my pickup truck/ i let him know i was going to the carnival/ me, too, he says/ his wet shirt had stuck…
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It Ain’t You Or Me
i try not to look into his eyes/ or I might get lost again/ summer ripples in the thousands/ there was no food in the grocery store this morning/ he is the high priest of sparks fly from his eyes day by day just like this day of ordinary consequence/…
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Night Run
that first weight in my balls/ we run at night/ through the streets/ as if something was chasing us/ it was at our heels, hunger/ another thin rope as a high wire act/ the grocery stores no longer throw away leftover food in dumpsters/ we are on our own, and…
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lucid questions
the lucid questions are not explorations he is going to either answer or encourage/ he holds the secrets in his folded hands and lips of salt and bed of bones where his body was the prize/
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U Better Run
poverty porn like lunar silences i only take the photographs/ it’s a grave thing, to take a place, to objectify it/ our sovereign sleeping leaves no cum stains on the sheets/ you get to comfort yourself with the understanding there is a beauty to the thing/ i have seen appalachia…
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Appalachian General
the appalchian sky made cheap as if standstill was attracted to a fading sun and the miles of parking lots scattered once again like the dead chain of emptying pilgrim souls who have arrived in the lower reaches of the hollows from the civilized east burning wood for warmth https://twitter.com/timbarrus
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It is Not Your World
you would not know this, it’s just not your world/ the best part of turning tricks is when the trick is jacking off in the bathroom, and they sorta get lost in there/ it means the whore might get the room for the night because daddy will probably flee for…
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My Appalachia
cautionary bones/ we could climb the tree to get through your bedroom window/ even winter’s scalpel cold, and the fireplace was burning oak, and that warm scent would hibernate under your sheets and quilts like caves where your tongue inside my mouth was not unlike walking through the fields with…
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gas and groceries
this is where we used to go to buy groceries like beef jerky on the gas credit card https://twitter.com/timbarrus
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ferris wheel of rust
we were insomniacs who played on an abandoned ferris wheel whose pendulum in appalachian rain was one blind eye and sullen just like you and weary where your skin leaked raw and your bones in the dark were soup inside your nerves to be so high such as we were…
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This Is What Anxiety Looks Like On Its Way To Outer Space
this is what anxiety looks like on its way to outer space/ it bounces off and then consumes the room/ any room/ you could rip your heart out, and then leap into the snow/ even your bones are clenched/ your butt hole went metallic years ago/ the pacing has worn…
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but you have no wings…
you have always had this breathtaking ability to jump right over all the stuff that bores you as you have always called it the bullshit of life/ you do not go around anything old or tired or useless/ you go over it as if flight might be an option but…
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And I am Here to Tell You
today, sunspots appeared when you go whizzing by tender in the shadows/ the horror of your existence will not die in a legion of soldierships where the seal you have tightened up so you might live between what souls have seen as their assignment beginning with how you died at…
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When They Take The Food Right Out Of Your Mouth…
Contrary to what you might be hearing from the white, privileged, upper-middle-class activists, AIDS is not over. No quite yet. https://timbarrus.tumblr.com
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toward whose delirious repose
you in your distance toward whose delirious repose suggesting structures of scars i have seem them all i have touched them all i have followed them with my lizard’s tongue i want to thank you for teaching me a huge, huge fucking lesson/ never get arrested/ https://timbarrus.tumblr.com
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Memory’s Machine
road trip with the dust and weed smoke in the car so thick, our eyes were the gas stations in the full gasoline noon/ the small town street lamps had once been crows, and all the motels had been rolling hills whose With Nothing To Return To was solid as…
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Memory’s Machine
après la fête le reste rages de poussière resté derrière se masturber à l’intérieur du cerveau enregistrer plus tôt tragédies désorientées par flou si parallèle événements https://www.instagram.com/timbarrus/
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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
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Memory’s Machine
et sa ceinture quand il fouette tu es nu vous autorisez seulement lui baiser toi dans le cul quand il y a pas de nourriture et ton ventre grogne comme un tigre bleu a sauté à travers la fenêtre à ton lit vous dites à votre agresseur te baiser dans…