foxtales

Poems and Prose by Tim Fox

  • Being an Artist in a Digital Age

    I have played a lot of roles in my life. Editor. Historian. Spokesperson. PR flack. Small (very small) business owner. But of all my roles, none has been as challenging as the one I have created for myself now—artist in the digital age.

    I didn’t start thinking of myself as an artist until fairly recently. In fact, I winced when I read on my website the other day, “Tim does not consider himself a ‘creative writer.’” When I wrote that, I must have meant, “I don’t write fiction.” Which is mostly true.

    But I have always written creatively, though mostly for myself or my family. I have filled dozens of journals over the past 40 years, some of them including poetry. I have also been a creative writer professionally, finding clever ways to make the most technical things interesting for nontechnical people. The audience of “nontechnical people” definitely includes me, which makes me good at it.

    In the past few years I have become more intentional in writing poetry, and now songs. And the more I have done it, the more natural it has become. A couple of lines, a beat, or a rhythm come to me, and I sit down and let it flow. The first draft may take half an hour, tops, followed by some worrying over particular words or where to put punctuation, but really, it comes easily to me.

    In a way, it’s laziness. I can deliver ideas more quickly, easily, clearly, and efficiently through a couple of stanzas, scribbled down in the heat of that creative moment, than I could in painfully wrought paragraphs.

    But in the old days, writing was frustrating and lonely because the only way to get it out there was to get it published. The constant torrent of rejection led some writers to depression and worse. Today, writing is frustrating and lonely because getting “published” is easy, but it doesn’t guarantee feedback, likes, shares, trending, going viral, or any kind of clout—let alone income. This is the challenge of being an artist, literary or otherwise, in the digital age.

    What we must do in today’s world—and maybe this is no revelation to anyone who generates any kind of art but me—is that the best reason to do it is for yourself. That’s it. Maybe your parents or spouse or kids will appreciate it, but beyond that … just put your wings on it, close your eyes, plug your nose, and let it go.


  • Scrubbing His Blood Offa My Hands

    Chaos and confusion
    Disaster and disorder
    psychocotic meltdown on the presidential stage

    Revolution’s coming
    Better get your shit together
    They won’t know what your doing
    ‘til they feel your righteous rage

    And now I’m scrubbing his blood, offa my hands
    Lady MacBeth, she’d understand
    Killed that evil fucker for playing with my life
    Stabbed him at the ballot box then stuck him with my knife

    Murderous contagion
    Are those your dues you’re payin’?
    Bodies all around you
    Like the words spread on the page

    Shoulda seen It comin’
    Now it’s here already
    Hope you had your fun
    Sitting ‘round in your malaise

    ,And now I’m scrubbing his blood, offa my hands
    Lady MacBeth, she’d understand
    Killed that evil fucker for playing with my life
    Stabbed him at the ballot box then stuck him with my knife

  • Spring Break Germ Bomb

    Studied hard all winter
    Well at least I went to class
    OK, so no, not every day
    But I think that I might pass
    ‘Cause it’s the …

    Spring Break Germ Bomb
    Yeah it’s the
    Spring Break Germ Bomb

    Think I’ll be a doctor
    All that chemistry and shit
    Hey, is that your sister?
    I’ll just take another hit
    ‘Cause it’s the …

    Spring Break Germ Bomb
    Yeah it’s the
    Spring Break Germ Bomb

    Mom and dad don’t care
    They let me put it on their card
    Sent me off to Florida
    So they can party super hard
    ‘Cause it’s the …

    Spring Break Germ Bomb
    Yeah it’s the
    Spring Break Germ Bomb


    Yeah it really doesn’t bother me
    If I get on your nerves
    With all the booze I’m drinking
    I’ll get the break that I deserve
    ‘Cause it’s the …

    Spring Break Germ Bomb
    Yeah it’s the
    Spring Break Germ Bomb

    Touching down at LAX
    Yeah, I had an awesome time
    Why’s no one here to greet me?
    Oh well, at least I got mine
    ‘Cause it’s the …

    Spring Break Germ Bomb
    Yeah it’s the
    Spring Break Germ Bomb

    Spoken over fadeout: What? Corona who? What is that, like, a hangover? Hey, where you goin’, man? Aren’t you gonna hug me? Social distancing what? Hey, no, seriously man, let me tell ya about this time we were pukin’ off this balcony onto a bunch of people. Oh shit, yeah, it was fuckin’ epic, dude … no, hey, wait, where you goin’ … come back here … awwwwwww, man …


  • Good On You

    Well they took the six million
    Shoved ’em in the oven
    They took the six million
    Sent ’em right on up to heaven
    So when I hear–
    “Them people are taking over”
    When I hear
    “Our end is coming soon”
    I say, “That looks good on you, man
    Yeah, it looks good on you to me
    I say, it looks real good on you, baby
    It looks good on you, I think.”

    They took 13 million
    Two million died along the way
    That leaves about 10 million
    10 million turned into slaves
    Now they say, “That black man
    he wants more than what I got”
    Now they say, “That black woman
    she got more than what’s in my pot.”
    And I say, “That looks good on you, man
    Yeah, I think that’s just fine
    I say, it looks great on you, friend
    You can have mine, anytime.”

    They think maybe 12 million
    Once called this land home
    Last time I checked
    I think that number’s down to five
    Still a lot of school kids
    say, “You’re lucky just to be alive.”
    Shoot a toy arrow over their heads
    They say, “Bang red man, you’re dead.”
    I say, “If you want it back, just take it
    We’ve had it long enough
    This brown land looks good on you, baby
    You can have it, ’cause we’ve fucked it up.”

    Yeah, it all looks good to me
    Guess that’s all I got left to say
    It all looks good to me
    I want to give it all away


  • Father Figures Revisited

    For Dustin Neil Smith, 1971-2019

    Father Figures large
    In young boys’ eyes
    Headed out early, to work with hand and mind
    Type into words, bolts into steel
    He molds the world and shapes it,
    Bends it to his will
    Sells the space and sells the hope
    Of a narrow, lonely town—
    While houses rise from Iowa fields
    And hay looms large in a dewy dawn

    Father Figures work,
    Learned here, between the squealing pigs
    Jostling for the heavy water
    Hanging on skinny arms,
    Knuckles white with strain—
    Here, he thinks, he will yearn to work for more
    And here, he thinks, he will feel the majesty of space
    The thin lines of domestic cathedrals
    The dreams of an architect come to life—
    He can do this, too, he thinks—While I can only make it breathe

    Father Figures divide
    On either side of a bathroom door
    Locked tight on a Sunday night
    One barred by the weight of the other.
    Their mothers raised them to be
    The living promise of their fathers’ fondest hopes
    Hold them up anyway—
    They still shine, like beams bouncing on the waves
    Brilliantly living lives beyond the wildest living dreams
    of Father Figures

  • Lou Reed Girlfriend


    Everyone needs
    A Lou Reed girlfriend
    Everyone needs
    That rock n roll heart
    If you don’t have
    A Lou Reed girlfriend
    Let me tell you
    It’s time to start

    You may find her
    Standing on the corner
    You may find her
    Doing uptown
    You may love her
    Like snow loves sunshine, baby
    You may love her
    But she’s never around

    When you get
    Your Lou Reed girlfriend
    You’d better keep her
    Right by your side
    Cause when you’ve got
    A Lou Reed girlfriend
    She may just be
    Someone else’s bride

    Yeah everyone needs
    A Lou Reed girlfriend
    Everyone needs
    That rock n roll heart
    But if you go looking
    For your Lou Reed girlfriend
    You’d better start
    In the dark dark dark

  • Me Today

    I used to get depressed in bookstores. Because it seemed like everyone was writing books. Every poet, every old rock star, every politician, everyone who had an idea of how other people should live. Books everywhere, books by the millions, books for the millions.

    Who was I in this mix?

    Then I realized that I can do things most of these people can’t. I can write long nonfiction and poetry. Songs and opinion pieces. Remembrances for friends and marketing copy.

    I can arrange things. I can take garbled up gobs of nothing and turn it into art, or at least something useful. Sometimes clever. Sometimes funny. Always better.

    I have been published in books and magazines. I have read my work at weddings and memorial services.

    I have lost jobs. Out of the ashes of jobs I built a business. I’ve been told I wasn’t able to write well enough, and I’ve proven none of them knew what they were talking about.

    I now write for one of the nation’s biggest urban parks. A regional bank. A university. The state’s most successful United Way agency. One of the nation’s poorest cities. An international consulting company.

    I bring a magazine to life out of nothing four times a year out of sheer force of will.

    I have tried to destroy my personal life, but I saved it. I tried to destroy those around me, and I’ve saved them, too.

    Next year, I have nothing to prove to anyone but myself.

  • Sorry Not Sorry

    Surround me in books & words–
    sitting in the nerve center, drowning,
    not drinking
    I am besieged on all sides
    I look into the gaping maw of me and see me,
    looking back
    I was born here, I will die here
    A rocket ship to nowhere
    Rhinoplasty train wreck apology
    Nauseated sea sick punch drunk bastard
    I stick up my head to see who says hello
    I lie down, eyes roll back
    I’m sorry, she says, always sorry
    I look–it’s blue, the sky
    open for me–look this way and say hello, she says,
    I’m sorry anyway
















  • Father Figures

    For Dustin and Pete, November 23, 2019

    Father Figures large
    In young boys’ eyes
    Headed out early, to work with hand and mind
    Type into words, bolts into steel
    He molds the world and shapes it,
    Bends it to his will
    Sells the space and sells the hope
    Of a narrow, lonely town—
    While houses rise from Iowa fields
    And hay looms large in a dewy dawn

    Father Figures work,
    Learned here, between the squealing pigs
    Jostling for the heavy water
    Hanging on skinny arms,
    Knuckles white with strain—
    Here, he thinks, he will yearn to work for more
    And here, he thinks, he will feel the majesty of space
    The thin lines of domestic cathedrals
    The dreams of an architect come to life—
    He can do this, too, he thinks—While I can only make it breathe

    Father Figures stand
    With us now
    Two men joined in love, forever
    The same love that joined their fathers
    To their mothers and led to them—
    The living promise of their parents’ fondest hopes
    Hold them up before the light
    See how they shine, like beams bouncing on the waves
    Brilliantly living lives beyond the wildest living dreams of—
    Father Figures

  • Left Bank Books: The First 50 Years

    Left Bank Books has now stood at the southwest corner of Euclid and McPherson in St. Louis’ Central West End for 50 years.

    Left Bank Streetscape

    As neighboring bars, restaurants, boutiques, and art galleries have come and gone, Left Bank–the last independent bookstore in the city selling new as well as used books–has weathered seismic shifts in book retailing, shopping habits, and the physical form of the book itself.

    With e-tailing giant Amazon showing no signs of slowing down, is Left Bank shaking on its shelves? Not if you ask co-owner Kris Kleindienst.

    “This is a great moment for independent bookstores,” says Kleindienst, who owns the store with her partner, Jarek Steele. “In the last several years, more independent stores have opened, and membership in the American Booksellers Association [ABA] is growing.”

    Kleindienst credits booksellers for the turnaround.

    “We have worked hard to put the message out that shopping local is healthier,” she says. “A local store generates three times the revenue for the community than a chain store, and a ton more than Amazon.”

    Kris Kleindienst

    Part of the reason for Amazon’s negative impact: most states don’t charge taxes on the company’s sales, allowing them to siphon off money that the bricks-and-mortar stores pay.

    Then there’s Amazon’s promotional and other “fees,” which put all publishers at a significant financial disadvantage.

    As an ABA board member, Kleindienst is concerned about the potential antitrust violations of such practices.

    “Books are a gateway drug for [Amazon CEO Jeff] Bezos,” Kleindienst explains. “They are a loss leader to get people online.”

    In fact, according to a 2014 New Yorker article, “book sales in the U.S. now make up no more than seven per cent of [Amazon’s] roughly seventy-five billion dollars in annual revenue.”

    But independent bookstores’ success is not just about dollars, Kleindienst says.

    “People are returning to the bookstore experience after the curiosity and love affair with the Internet fades,” she says. “They find it hollow and come to appreciate the experience that bookstores offer. Bookstores trade in the marketplace of ideas.”

    For example, during the crisis that started in Ferguson in August 2014, Left Bank became a place for people to gather and talk about what was happening. Employees at the store created a Ferguson reading list that went viral and was adopted by professors. Next came Ferguson Reads, a reading group committed to starting conversations around race and justice in the community.

    Left Bank Cat

    “You don’t get that kind of involvement from the head of a corporation in another state who answers to shareholders,” Kleindienst says. “Our customers and our employees are big First Amendment people. They appreciate someone owning their position, starting dialogues, having conversations. Everyone doesn’t agree, but everyone respects each other’s positions.”

    Left Bank started in 1969 at 6321 Delmar, on The Loop. The brainchild of a group of antiwar Washington University students, it was a place St. Louisans could find “dangerous” materials–“like Rolling Stone magazine,” Kleindienst laughs.

    She came on board in 1974. As the founders went off to pursue other careers, the store was sold to a pair of brothers and fell on hard times. Kleindienst “bought” the store with Barry Leibman by assuming its debt in 1977.

    “We knew we needed to move, but we were so broke, we didn’t have enough money,” she recalls. “When we said that in front of a customer one day, he suggested asking customers for donations. We collected $5,000, got a bank loan based on that, and moved here.”

    That was the beginning of the Friends of Left Bank Books. Donations from the Friends now go to the Left Bank Books Foundation, which buys books and pays for authors’ visits for St. Louis Public School students.

    “St. Louis Public Schools have their hands full, but we can encourage literacy by bringing in relevant books to make reading compelling and fun,” Kleindienst says.

    The Foundation also funds author events that support other Left Bank program, like a visit from Glee actor and fantasy novelist Chris Colfer.

    “He is a big supporter of a lot of our causes, like LGBT rights,” says Kleindienst, “but we needed a bigger site for him. The Foundation helps to offset costs on events that are important to the community but won’t pay for themselves on booksales alone.”

    Left Bank Logo

    That’s good news for Left Bank’s employees, most of whom are full-time booksellers–and good news for St. Louis.

    “We are one of the most involved businesses in the community,” Kleindienst says. “We’re here to stay.”