Learn More

Bob Hicok

(1960 - / Michigan)

Poems of Bob Hicok

Sudden Movements

My father's head has become a mystery to him.
We finally have something in common.
When he moves his head his eyes
get big as roses filled
with the commotion of spring.
Not long ago he was a man
who had tomato soup for lunch
and dusted with the earnestness
of a gun fight. Now he's a man

[Hata Bildir]