My photo
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.

Wednesday, March 30, 2011


i drive more slowly
passed cemeteries
these days
to look at the mirrors
littering the ground.

i know...
you see granite and marble
broken with history
and tears,

but all i see
is my reflection,
scattered and lost,
searching the fractured
for a hint of reassurance.

i've been frightened
of flesh and bone and breath.

i've been colder than normal,
and the pains in my gut...

i digress...

i'm boring you...

poetry is for living,
even as i hear
death cracking her
feeble knuckles
just out of the corners
of my eyes,
a shadow dancer
teasing me with a blown kiss...

my reflection
spins drunkenly
as clouds creep slowly
across treetops,
sowing fallow earth
with their bitter elixirs -

urine on the communion table -

napalm in the nursery -

and my reflection,
broken and twisted,
     laughs and dances,
          pleads and weeps,
     cowers and sinks
in the rancid mud
of illusory graves -

dysphoria in the cracked reality
of a mourning sun.

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