“Presiding” ©️C.P. Hickey 2018


There are sounds in graveyards.

Earthen sounds of sorrow and surrender.

Sonic suppositions and wailing gypsies.

Contemplative gorge.

Terror of impermanence.

An impasse, but not passive.

Hang around long enough and you train your ears to listen.

On the fringe of life, abutting, and right up against it.

A city of ruins, leading paths to a suburban eternity.

Invited patience sublimates itself to the alpha regret.

Sinister doubts press courage from beating hearts.

The busy silence teases out the denied emotions of Faustian bargains.

Legions of lifeless bones, marked by dust and stone.

A marathon sprint to stillness.

Perpetual motion, dispatched to be oblivion.

Authoritative immense silence speaking volumes to those not willing to look.

A distant buzz of lawn-grooming engines, drones on.

A lulling drone; consistent.

Cars passing by on the periphery, allowing measurable distance to be heard.

Rushing toward a graver situation.

Whistling past the graveyard.

Tenants without complaints, barely registering.

Rotting remains, animate the six-feet deep dioramas of death beneath our feet.

Worms, et al, explore yawning canvases.

A subterranean bacchanalia.

Mourner’s tears ant farm tunnels in the shoveled earth.

This offends the dead, but no one understands why?

Perhaps grief humors the living, despite the noise of the dead.


“Windermere Plantigos”

“Windermere Plantigos”

Abutting a frenzy of dancing air,

Petals and leaves propel themselves still.

Potted points of oxygen emissions.

Nature dovetails with man made structures.

Breaking left and right,

Aboveish and belowish.

Invisible force,

Much like gravity,

But not as omnipresent.

A delicious chill leaks down my back and puckers my cheeks.

The time of seasonal consistency approaches its end.

Onward to the new death,

And dying things.

That somehow make it their business to appear at a later time.

40/40: Summer Poem Slam-a-bam! – Day 13 – “Breakneck Speed”

“Breakneck Speed”

It’s funny how teaching your kids to ride a bike, can start with death.

Training wheels squared,

upon a flat cement space.

Enclosed from busy streets.

Helmets, elbow pads, and knee pads.

Just put them on the bikes, and go.

Around the schoolyard square.

Being pulled into the gravitational reality of a pigeon corpse.

Monument gray, tits up, broken neck.

It must have flown into one of the eighty windows above the school entrance.

Taking precautions to keep the children from harm, but facing down an inadequate explanation of death.

Just fixed there on the spot, full view.

A fly surveying the scene.

Kids steering the handlebars of their bikes to avoid the pigeon corpse.

I myself, standing by, hoping they don’t maliciously drive over the broken bird for jest.

They didn’t.

Still gentle. World has not touched them yet.

Or, maybe this the first grazing shot.

The circuit repeated, over and over.

Joy in learning new things.

Sadness in learning new things.

Driving eager with breakneck speed.

Can’t keep them from flying into windows.

There are too goddamned many.

A very special thanks to A and L. Our misadventures seem to teach me so much. Hope you’re taking notes.

40/40: Summer Poem Slam-a-bam is a project in which people have joined me for 40 days and 40 nights of on-demand poetry. They have submitted the concepts, ideas, and subjects; I’ve done the rest.

40/40: Summer Poem Slam-a-bam! – Day 3 – “Dead Pool: An Exquisite Corpse”


Image Link

“Dead Pool: An Exquisite Corpse”


“There’s something wonderful about drinking in the afternoon. A not-too-cold pint, absolutely alone at the bar — even in this fake-ass Irish pub.”

                                                                                                                                                                  -Anthony Bourdain

“Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”

                                                                                                                                                                 -John Lennon ~ Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy)

“Nothing can stop these lonely tears from falling.”

                                                                                                                                                                -Prince ~ Nothing Compares 2 U

“For years and years I roamed, I gazed a gazeless stare.”

                                                                                                                                                                -David Bowie ~ the man who sold the world

“And I’m lost, behind. The words I’ll never find, and I’m left behind, as seasons roll on by, yeah yeah.”

                                                                                                                                                                -Chris Cornell ~ Seasons

“I have decided to leave you forever. I have decided to start things from here. Thunder and lightning won’t change what I’m feelin’.”

                                                                                                                                                                -Dolores O’Riordan ~ Daffodils Lament

“Well some say life will beat you down. Break your heart, steal your crown. So I’ve started out, for God knows where. I guess I’ll know when I get there”

                                                                                                                                                                -Tom Petty ~ Learning to Fly

“All dead, all dead. All the dreams we had. And I wonder why I still live on.  All dead, all dead. And alone I’m spared.”

                                                                                                                                                                -Freddie Mercury ~ All Dead, All Dead


And alone, we are spared.

To conceive this dread, in fear.

Carpe diem, dear!

Do not go gentle into the void.

Live the fullest.

Drink well.

Eat voraciously.

Love others.

Warm your bed with the embrace of lovers.

There is nothing promised.

A sinister tease,

a statistical anomaly.

And despite this.

The finest gift, indeed.


A very special thanks to Jared Nownes for suggesting: Dead Celebrity Poem=Bourdain

Fellow Poet extraordinaire, Jared Nownes, can be found squirreling away words of wisdom and flights of madness on his blog Sustantivos” you must go check it out.

40/40: Summer Poem Slam-a-bam is a ongoing project in which people have joined me for 40 days and 40 nights of on-demand poetry. They have submitted the concepts, ideas, and subjects; I’ve done the rest.