A Buzzard in the Proper State of Deadness, Poems by Jeff Coomer

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Whether he's explaining why he wouldn't make a good gunslinger, mourning the loss of his favorite pen, or inadvertently astonishing the much younger woman he's seated next to at dinner, Jeff Coomer is someone who doesn't always seem sure of his footing in a world that's changing with or without his approval.  In this, his second poetry collection, he continues his determined quest to discover the remarkable in everyday occurrences and memories.  Ranging in tone from humorous and self-effacing to poignantly reflective, the keen perception and honesty of the poems in A Buzzard in the Proper State of Deadness are bound to touch you.

I’m having a leisurely afternoon coffee

with the third woman I’ve known

who at some point in the conversation

leans close to reveal that she was Cleopatra—

yes, the Cleopatra—in a previous life. 

 

I’m not an expert on the migration of souls,

but it occurs to me that at least two of the women

are almost certainly wrong.

 

   —“Cleopatra”

JEFF COOMER grew up in the middle-class suburbs east of Baltimore.  After receiving a BA in political science from Washington College in Chestertown, Maryland, he stumbled into a career in IT that ended with a long stint as the chief  information officer for a division of a Fortune 500 company.  He and his wife, Susan, raised two children on eighteen wooded acres in the rural countryside of central Maryland, a frequent setting for his poems.  They are now enjoying a peaceful retirement back in Chestertown, where he spends much of his time writing poetry and wandering around outside with no particular purpose in mind.   

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Chestertown, Maryland

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