Bob Hicok

(1960 - / Michigan)

Bob Hicok Poems

1. Translator's Note 1/23/2012
2. The Smiths, As I Understand Them 3/8/2012
3. Toward Accuracy 1/23/2012
4. Unmediated Experience 1/23/2012
5. Happy First Anniversary (In Anticipation Of Your Thirty Ninth) 3/14/2014
6. The Semantics Of Flowers On Memorial Day 1/23/2012
7. Epithalamium 1/23/2012
8. Duke 1/23/2012
9. For Three Whose Reflex Was Yes 1/23/2012
10. In Michael Robins’s Class Minus One 1/23/2012
11. Report From The Black Box 1/23/2012
12. Feeling The Draft 1/23/2012
13. A Shopkeeper’s Story 1/23/2012
14. Man Of The House 1/23/2012
15. A Private Public Space 1/23/2012
16. Dropping The Euphemism 1/23/2012
17. An Old Story 1/23/2012
18. After Working Sixty Hours Again For What Reason 1/23/2012
19. In The Loop 1/23/2012
20. Full Flight 1/23/2012
21. O My Pa-Pa 1/23/2012
22. Learning To Swim 1/23/2012
23. Prodigal 1/23/2012
24. Go Greyhound 1/23/2012
25. Mortal Shower 1/23/2012
26. Her My Body 1/23/2012
27. Calling Him Back From Layoff 1/23/2012
28. What Would Freud Say? 1/13/2003
29. The Maple 1/1/2004
30. Sudden Movements 1/13/2003
31. By Their Works 1/1/2004
32. Another Awkward Stage Of Convalescence 1/13/2003
33. Other Lives And Dimensions And Finally A Love Poem 1/13/2003
Best Poem of Bob Hicok

Other Lives And Dimensions And Finally A Love Poem

My left hand will live longer than my right. The rivers
of my palms tell me so.
Never argue with rivers. Never expect your lives to finish
at the same time. I think

praying, I think clapping is how hands mourn. I think
staying up and waiting
for paintings to sigh is science. In another dimension this
is exactly what's happening,

it's what they write grants about: the chromodynamics
of mournful Whistlers,
the audible sorrow and beta decay of Old Battersea Bridge.
I like the idea of different

theres and ...

Read the full of Other Lives And Dimensions And Finally A Love Poem

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

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