A Poem by Nash Tomey




What is becoming of
me in my—ours, (yours) when
I run this and


hesitate to show
window panes around
the white molding. May-


be I can’t feel
anything any-
more in the cracks.


When (and if) I
am wrong to hold
some ones for you,


so to speak. To say, that
I can’t show you every-
some anymore that I


am still here for you in
nearly all,
(as now mine, your


millions only dangle).
As even if (you won’t)
the ways I keep you


safe, here
there is nothing
up, up


to chance, and so—
and welcome something in
me, as. Tonight


is to…for remembering
an almost feeling,
but only through


deserving in earnest
(which is an earning). While
you a meadow…no, just


as you are, this is
striving to be told
to be something


that you are,
if not equally, so
just different.




Nash Tomey is a double bassist at New England Conservatory of Music, getting his BA in Music Performance.  He has always had a passion for poetry.

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