Tim Barrus: Art: Rhizome -- New Museum of Contemporary Art -- Culture Wars: Poetry: Juxtaposition: Layers: Helios Flees: Bones: Everyone's a Star: Art is Dangerous:

My art can be found at Rhizome which is a part of the New Museum of Contemporary Art: NYC. http://rhizome.org/profile.php?1054222 what is a culture war/ the juxtaposition of contrasting images/ helios flees secretly across a lost landscape of bones and boys and biography/ for we were all of this once/ and now our bones are ancient arrangements of measured worth/ back against the wall/ those warrior fields of glistening opposites/ the world begins assimilating temples/ a vaulting of arteries/ nicely opposed voices of the demon-heads/ this desert is troublesome/ coyotes move among the rocks with infinite precision and carefully for the foliage does not hide them or their pups/ the rapture of the fabric of our flesh an indolent equinox gliding like a moth through rooms never really knowing if it will or if it can or if it might -- stilled from time to time with doubt -- find the torrent that comes pouring toward it that we call the light/ everyone's a star/ the volcanic lips of sleepless recognition/ listening to the absolute night/ pain's incisiveness unlit deep where the whispers fly/ to see another world beyond the knots/ in intricate and elusive ways/ so moments pass as though this ragged shining/ before the shutting down/ here's the convert's spleen/ you sink slowly into consolidation bobbing and weaving and sparring/ to attach this rope/ grotesquely swollen/ the dead are afraid to move/ downward in the warm dark/ the secrets knowing beyond the burning glass/ an agony burdensome beyond all correction/ and so the inward stillness of calamity craves desire/ concentration/ vigilance/ a stirring beneath the skin/ makes of me a survivor/ wet with a collection of mornings as the fog comes in/ and by this balanced act/ pleasure keeps a different time/ to make of moments/ flares/ bedrooms/ rigorous tomorrows/ the dying all over town with the life ripped out of them/ enduring this chill/ this monotony/ this vital marking time/ the final fireworks before the marching boots/ and hanging on/ to finally seal itself/ you/ drawn through your summer's eyes/ because the men loved you the most/ sifting through the dust/ your halting speech/ tethered to the floating/ thread by thread/ analytical/ staring down with those dark kind eyes/ mutilates this soul/ i used to have/ buried in the gestures of our sleep/ i say/ i scream/ i insist/ it comes down to this/ shade to pagen shade/ shadow to shadow/ your intruder's touch/ like knives/ this truce/ we have wrought from war/ in blindfolds/ must now be signed/

Submission | May 10, 2008

Tags:. .halting. .fireworks. .craves. .afraid. .poetry