2023 · Poems · poetry

“Writing Distraction”

“Flake” ©️C.P. Hickey 2023

“Writing Distraction”

Environment skews focus

Elusive ideas remain away

Cannot quite grasp it

Looming large but ineffable

Which is a word I learned in high school

From a young woman named Megan

Which I cannot remember if she spelled her name with or without an “h”

Old dial tone phones with Boa Constrictor cords

Kept us tethered in the wonder of an inconsequential connection

Each of us pushed towards an idea of what we were supposed to be

In spite, of the discomforts of not knowing how

I do not know that we ever kissed or held hands

But—I am certain the seeds of my later courting elegance were sown during these largely small distractions

Flailing at life

Learning to dance

Whispering into the molded plastic receiver of an avocado colored phone

Hoping against hope that my deepest secrets and desires were heard

2023 · Poems

“Radio Static”

“Radio Static”

Indigenous Light Forms ©️C.P. Hickey 2023

percolating crackle

amplitude frequency

word soup white noise

dial left or right

neither correct

more crackling

static fizz a bushy business

a puffing storm cloud

potentially kinetic

ozone whiffs waft

waves winderly windy wind

air conducts

a symphony of forms

ideas conveyed and received

broadcasted boldly brave

looking for certain

sentient life

a dark star cosmos

avoiding unavoidable gravity cones

spinning ceaselessly

expanding horizons


no true exit

only entering the once

transformed universally

so all can listen at the receiver

here to hear


2023 · Poems · poetry


“Keeping Watch” ©️C.P. Hickey 2023


Sometimes it’s hard to stand out

Standing up for others that can’t

Backing down bullies’ braggadocio

There are people out to hurt others

Afraid to help others

And ignore their suffering

Enjoying the struggle


Some still stand out against that

Hands outstretched

Elevating others

Those are the ones…

That stand out

For me, for you, for all

Standing for righteousness

Standing on

Standing up

Standing out

2023 · Poems · poetry

“Alone From Me”

“Open Air” ©️C.P. Hickey 2023

“Alone From Me”

I don’t know how to be

In a place—alone from me

Sustaining sanity

A misleading reverie

Impatience patiently

In a place—alone from me

Existential parity

Haunts this lucid waking dream

A calm collective calamity

In a place—alone from me

Isolation bursting seams

Old companions take their leave

A desert mirage fleetingly

In a place—alone from me

Unsightly vision still unseen

Alone…alone…alone from me

2023 · Poems · poetry

“Resolution Infinitive”

“Daisy” © C.P. Hickey 2022

“Resolution Infinitive”

When you can’t run…

All you want to do is run.

So, run when you can,

Because you never know when you will be unable to run.


Three hundred sixty-five days ahead with which…

To live, to write, to laugh, to think, to reflect, to act, to try, to experience, to fail, to succeed, to mend, to discover, to assist, to uphold, to care, to help, to learn, to mourn, to discipline, to develop, to grow, to understand, to listen, to empathize, to give, to invite, to allow, to celebrate, to cuddle, to create, to read, to human, to celebrate, to guide, to teach, to hope, to weep, to hug, to hold, to grab more from the universe than you were allowed

To grab more from the universe than you were allowed

2022 · Advent Adventures: 24 Doors of December · Christmas

Advent Adventures: The Door to December Twenty-fourth, 2022

Advent Adventures: The Door to December 24th, 2022

Christmas Eve

Image Link



My advent calendar project hit a buzzsaw called Christmas Present. Christmas 2018 swallowed me up, and I couldn’t spare the creative space needed to close out my project. I back ended some pretty important memories to the end of the calendar for dramatic effect and because it is emotionally hard to write about these things. It leaves me exhausted, yet grateful for such heavy lifting. Please forgive an ambitious man for a late delivery. Sometimes when you let something marinate and breathe a bit, it becomes better for it. I certainly hope so. I am blessed to have lived through many treasured moments in my life, and I’d be remiss if I didn’t express how very warm and full of heart I become when I recall these times, our times. Merry times, happy times, unknowing times, taken for granted times. Holding short moments for a fraction of time. We simply inherited a sense that tradition is and always has been important. It is a gift from those that came before us. It is a gift full of wisdom and righteous remembering, and the action of choosing to be together. Blending family and the precious commodity of time creates magic. The town where I grew up was small, but seemed large to me as a child. It is full of history, and I could walk to any of my near relatives homes within 3-5 minutes. This reality provided me with a false sense that I would always have this convenience of access throughout my life. It wasn’t until I set out into the world that I experienced how small my world truly was and just how lucky I had been to have had such access and time with my closest relatives growing up. It’s not the kind of thing you become aware of, until it changes. Life moves, life breathes, nothing stays forever, and that is why upon reflection of the holidays of the past, I warmly remember Christmas Eves spent at 28 St. Martin Street with the special people you see in the photograph above. Sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas, a Christmas Card/Invitation would come to us from Uncle Mike, Aunt Donna, and Cousin Christy. It would invite us up to their place at 28 St. Martin Street, to celebrate Christmas Eve. Festivities would begin promptly at 6ish. We’d meet, eat, make jolly, and tell stories of the past year. It was a great pre-cursor to Christmas Day celebrations.  Much of the revelry would take place in the kitchen, as it generally does in Irish-American households. Never entering through the front door, but only through the back door, which you would arrive to after you had to walk down a short walkway abutting the house.  Generally, those visiting knew to come to the back door. If they didn’t, we knew they were strangers. Many great Christmas Eve’s were spent in the company of the Hickey’s, the Lane’s, The Connolly’s, The Warner’s, The Blakie’s, The Dowling’s, The Merullo’s, and any and all that I may have neglected to mention. I’m so grateful that we were a part of something so memorable, that has sustained the fire of memory in my heart. The ghosts of Christmas Past are never too far away.  Although, we’ve lost some of fellow travelers in this life, our family still sustains. We are so lucky to still have opportunities to gather, and we make great use of the examples of living revelry that are evidenced in the photograph above. I look at all of our eyes in that picture, and I see a million different stories and thoughts. I never knew I would be where I am now, but I know for certain that it was a damn wonderful thing to be there then. Merry Christmas to Aunt Donna, and Cousin Christy. Thank you for sharing your home with all of us, and for creating a lasting tradition. Whenever I look at this photo, I know how perfect a moment can be, and how very precious it is to capture it. Carpe Diem!  Love to Richie, Irene, Paul, Kathy, Mike, and to all of us that have remained glowing in their memory.