Poems by Jeremy Toombs

Fair To Middlin’ Cut Up Prose Poem

This moment look around surrounded     taking notice     eggs over easy eat one throw one light from long ago where I need to go talk about it: how odd to snuck a duck     it’s more than looking     dark plume nebula river air bubble ripples     Highway 51 ain’t nothing being measured in my dreams behind me walls     that’s how the fox ran    I notice gloomy front room curtains     just write    descending quality dusk blue sky TV muted     has he heard me? Stop. When to quit     surprised, she says     the milky way waking up three green leaves     what we say     what I need     what are you doing     where would I go I saw Mark Anthony backwards and full all true alone     in a bit     soul problem     who’s there     screamed whatever matters deranged easy blended calling up not ever stopping ain’t that something     still nothing on a bridge     the fella says the sky     everything is unusual     evade evade things     she’s nervous     evergreen magnolia silent the mood being there exploded     wet Sunday he’s the sun made clouds massed     who cares    I could be not yet done finely wrought tooth and claw a purple moor on show     mind wide open powerful     them cows lowing heard alone across the sky wild imagining the center true cheeky     a fiddle low and sweet     space girl imagining a treeline horns blowing please be kind all this life long.

About the Author

Natural born human, son, friend, father, poet, spouse, songwriter, harp man, kung fu man, the sky, the path, the way, Kentuckian home body, Alaskan dock boss, Korean sword man, Bristol boy, all identities myriad lives in body and mind, in spirit—here I am in these lines—some part of me to listen to: read these words aloud in a semi-southern drawl. As Hank said, if the good lord’s willin’ and the creeks don’t rise…we’ll see you somewhere down the line.