hip-deep-in-pie

[hip-deep-in-pie]

cecilia

it seems impossible, to love a thing before you know it. to love it still when you realize you never will.

i couldn't wait to hold you, to laugh at how you had your father’s friendly smile or your mother's kind eyes, as she rolled them at me.

they were going to name you after the song. we, the circling satellites, and you, the enveloping sky, tiny and infinite, all at once.

but now we’re falling back to earth, broken pieces like promises burning up in the atmosphere, crashing into salt water.

you’re here, but they're still waiting. it's not fair, but it's not your fault, and we'll carry you forward when we remember how to move.

the best we can do is know you're out there and trust blindly that you're shining, like the stars on a cloudy night.

it seems impossible, to love someone before you know them. but I understand now that we did.

[hip-deep-in-pie]

reflectors

sometimes in the quiet, romantic moments after finishing a book or during the silence of a black screen or an empty stage, (fleeting pulses when i am sense-starved and fumbling for profundity,) i find myself cast with an extreme sadness for the women who have only ever half-existed on the pages of men, women with mirrors for faces and exposition where their thoughts should be

for Lee and Austin’s mother, nameless, lost to the dark, menacing crevasses of the human mind standing idly by as the madness around her (steals toasters, smashes typewriters, strangles his own brother) takes whatever she has left

for Willy Loman’s wife, similarly mired in the narrative of her husband and sons and the dreams they had of themselves i think of the kind of hope she must have had to call a son Happy and the kind of anguish that must have come when he never was

for Anabel Laird and Daisy Fey and Evelyn Richards and Sally Hayes and Mary Lou, Camille, Inez and Alaska Young and Dolores Haze

and for Juliet, dear Juliet, hers, at least, a name we remember for all the wrong reasons just a teenager, just a girl when she became the greatest fool in love and literature a pawn on someone else’s chessboard a foil in a stormy dance of epees a world-famous lover cast in a story that was never really about romance

#poetry #hip deep in poetry #reflectors

[hip-deep-in-pie]

we’ll be cold again

we’ll be cold again like our parents’ parents were to them. generations alternate, we were raised by people who were raised by people who were so grateful to still be living that they did as much of it as possible. they were stoic, stalwart, and brave -- at least they are now in our stories of them -- and they did not know how quickly cigarettes and straight liquor would leave them broken-hearted, feeble and gasping for breath. those people’s children grew up and had children of their own, and reached backwards in time with a suffocating embrace.

we’ll be cold again because we spent so much time warming up. it was different for us, connecting, and we thought that was something new. so we went surfing and ended up in the eye of a hurricane, plugged in but still untethered, red lights bleeding into blue screens. we met the whole world in a decade and learned to hate ourselves when it only left us feeling more alone. now, we’re clever but not kind, watching everything at once but seeing very little, loving too much and hardly enough, and reaching forward to grab what is not yet ours to hold.

we’ll be cold again and we’ll call it self-preservation. what is there left to do? what can we pretend to be? we can exercise but we can’t run. we can save the earth but we can’t push back the sun. and we can fight but we can’t loose the hand already wrapped around our necks. what is there left to do? we can drink ourselves dry-mouthed, and talk ourselves drunk. we can circle definitions for words we can’t even say out loud and reach up towards the sky with outstretched palms.

we’ll be cold again to keep ourselves warm.

#poetry #hip deep in poetry #free verse #we'll be cold again

[hip-deep-in-pie]

The highs are slightly higher but the lows are just as low and it’s about feeling this way forever and how long that will go

#hip deep in poetry

[hip-deep-in-pie]

“I’m like, ten different people on Tumblr,” she said, without a hint of irony or embarrassment.

[hip-deep-in-pie]

i’m irish, please don’t kiss me

it’s weird you told your friend you shouldn’t go out on st. patrick’s day that you only get yourself into trouble it's almost funny how right you were

it’s weird you have a flash of seeing him here even before you walk into the bar it’s like you see it coming

it’s weird how you know it’s him before he knows it’s you to be fair, he never really saw you in the first place and it’s been at least two years

it’s weird he’s still handsome, maybe more so he still talks in declarative statements it’s just as unsettling as ever

it’s weird to be sitting next to the last person who kissed you and thinking it’s probably not a two-way street it’s probably what you deserve

it’s weird  how you talk to him so differently so much harsher, more clipped, less impressed, more eye rolls it’s because he doesn’t care either way

it’s weird to look him in the eye with such ease so differently than other guys it’s probably why people get the wrong idea about you

it’s weird two nights in a row, you’ve successfully slipped away and now you don’t trust yourself to go back it’s pathetic, really

#hipdeepinpie #i'm irish please don't kiss me #poetry #sort of

[hip-deep-in-pie]

high steaks

One time, we were at Sizzler it was around Thanksgiving, so we played the game “What Are You Thankful For?”

It comes around the table to Trevor and in front of god(s) and his girlfriend this dude thinks real hard and says that the thing he is most thankful for in the whole world is weed and the local dispensary

I bet they heard the reaction three salad bars away.

#hipdeepinpie #sizzler #weed

[hip-deep-in-pie]

a night out with friends

This dude's here flipping through Grindr looking for dudes to bang I'm here flipping through Tumblr looking for things to love

#hipdeepinpie

[hip-deep-in-pie]

friday night

you say it’s your birthday like that’s an excuse go find you a cutie who’s rightly obtuse

#hip deep in pie #poetry #writing #random

[hip-deep-in-pie]

hip deep in pie

a poetry blog

#hip deep in pie #poetry