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Withering Cedars, Georgia, United States
My name is Tim Morris. I currently dwell in Northwest Georgia on my estate, Withering Cedars, nestled at the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains, with my lovely wife and two beautiful daughters, where I teach high school American literature. I have been writing poetry for the majority of my life. I write about what I see around me. When asked, I describe my style as "realist romantic surrealism". The environment, sex, jazz, religion, politics, family, etc., are the subjects on which I tend to focus. When I am not writing, I play the banjo, didgeridoo, or drums or wander aimlessly shooting odd objects with my camera.

Thursday, February 24, 2011

"it's at night when we feed"

darkness - a twisted blanket --

whiskey and a blow-job
in raw light
of a waxing moon --

subtle serenade of cricket song
broken sporadically by soft rustle
of ground leaves --

[coyote circling perimeter
curious as scent
of lust and lush melt on the wind
ride into night]

a hint of semen on her lips
when she kisses me
whiskey fire
tongue on tongue --

now lying naked and drunk
in the grass
chasing stars across the sky --

poetry creeps
through shadow
and chews at our soul.

1 comment:

leigh tuplin said...

This reads in an almost visceral way whilst retaining its softness - good stuff Tim.