Tim Barrus Blog
Posts tagged with tim-barrus-poetry
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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…
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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/…
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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…
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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…
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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…
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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
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i know who u r
i know your kindness i know/ your scars i have some of those 2/ i know where you’ve been/ i know the smell of your shit/ i know your guts, and/ i know/ when you are giving up i do not want you 2 give up but it’s not up…
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The Bed Last Night
none of my lovers has ever been what you could call the timid type more like unruly dogs who do not forgive each one smells differently i smell their smells in the bed i sleep among them in not unlike the weather fadeaushka smelled of russian vodka and his butt…
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answering letters
i will drown in answering all these letters just the ones written at midnight when the paradox of light slinks in like amber weeping at summer’s end when my rooms of dogs and rowdy children dropped off here by the humane society between the lines i must remember to burn…
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As If Suspended From Above
knowing you, loving you was to suspend all belief in apprehension you could tame the rest of me in the hanging of you above the bed whispering of slow ruin in the wandering your books of yet another star undone that used to hang there in the southern sky before…
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Roads of Salt
his ass had traveled & had disappeared many times only to show up again at the carnival of sea walls and quaintly labeled jars containing his voices & his fluids having torn himself open with tongues at the edges of the ponds
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Except For This
except for this, i am always hanging on to stones/ i should have known better than to take a dancer home/ at least i called it a home/ someone had to/ i do have rules/ rule#1/ never ever ever ever take a dancer home unless you are completely mad/ a…
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Or Why The Fuck Are You Here
exactly how does one make any sense of a universe-of-existence that both embraces change and runs away from it/ you either dive head first into the vast unknown, the uncontrollable, death with its chains for every mind/ the secrets you do not yet understand how to translate/ what do you…
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A Shifting of the Clouds
the woods behind the house extends a sustained but curious sense of authority as if their push against the sky was preordained which is not true/ but rather/ we are all creatures of evolution/ we were not always this/ but arrived walking out of oceans (heroically) long since disappeared/ more…
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POETRY: THE SECRETS OF THE GAUDY NIGHT
infinite beggarly in laying siege to the being gone you must not touch/ you must not touch/ touching is forbidden but plowing your face into some guys’ butt is an accommodation/ you, with the black eyes/ pugnacity and false teaching me to sing again/ i hated them and everything they…
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The Death Watch & The Desert Poetry
Real Cowboys i could not ride for days like he could my ass my ass my kingdom for an ass https://tim-barrus.format.com/about
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The Poetry of Billy the Kid
billy the kid speaks/ he realizes he has nothing to say, just duh, billy does not do well out in the real world he was a fuckin’ inward kinda guy, actually, they broke into that house, there was a pool there, and for an hour they owned it, billy the…