Bob Hicok
Sudden Movements by Bob Hicok

Sudden Movements by Bob Hicok

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 ...

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Toward Accuracy by Bob Hicok

Toward Accuracy by Bob Hicok

We’re high enough that what I call fog might be cloud.Not Everest high, or Chomuolungma, “Mother Goddessof the World.” If we named things what they are, our sentences would be ...

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What Would Freud Say? by Bob Hicok

What Would Freud Say? by Bob Hicok

Wasn't on purpose that I drilled through my finger or the nurse laughed. She apologized three times and gave me a shot of something that was a lusher apology. The person who drove ...

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Go Greyhound	 by Bob Hicok

Go Greyhound by Bob Hicok

A few hours after Des Moinesthe toilet overflowed.This wasn't the adventure it sounds.I sat with a man whose tattoosweighed more than I did.He played Hendrix on mouth guitar.His ...

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Calling Him Back From Layoff by Bob Hicok

Calling Him Back From Layoff by Bob Hicok

I called a man today. After he saidhello and I said hello came a pauseduring which it would have been confusing to say hello again so I saidhow are you doing and guess what, he ...

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Prodigal by Bob Hicok

Prodigal by Bob Hicok

You could drive out of this countryand attack the world with your ambition,invent wonder plasmas,become an artist of the provocative gesture,the suggestive nod, you could ...

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Mortal Shower by Bob Hicok

Mortal Shower by Bob Hicok

I met my butt in a Pittsburghhotel room. My facestill looks like my facebut not my butt, my hairno longer resembles an adfor Jell-O pudding, people thoughtit was chocolate pudding ...

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The Maple by Bob Hicok

The Maple by Bob Hicok

is a system of posture for wood. A way of not falling down for twigs that happens to benefit birds. I don't know. I'm staring at a tree, at yellow leaves threshed by wind and want ...

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Another Awkward Stage Of Convalescence by Bob Hicok

Another Awkward Stage Of Convalescence by Bob Hicok

Drunk, I kissed the moonwhere it stretched on the floor.I'd removed happiness from a green bottle,both sipped and gulpedjust as a river changes its mind,mostly there was a flood ...

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Other Lives And Dimensions And Finally A Love Poem by Bob Hicok

Other Lives And Dimensions And Finally A Love Poem by Bob Hicok

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 ...

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After Working Sixty Hours Again For What Reason by Bob Hicok

After Working Sixty Hours Again For What Reason by Bob Hicok

The best job I had was moving a stonefrom one side of the road to the other.This required a permit which requireda bribe. The bribe took all my salary.Yet because I hadn’t ...

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Learning To Swim by Bob Hicok

Learning To Swim by Bob Hicok

At forty-eight, to be given water,which is most of the world, given lifein water, which is most of me, given ease,which is most of what I lack, here, where wallsdon’t part to my ...

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In The Loop by Bob Hicok

In The Loop by Bob Hicok

I heard from people after the shootings. PeopleI knew well or barely or not at all. Largelythe same message: how horrible it was, how littlethere was to say about how horrible it ...

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In Michael Robins’s Class Minus One	 by Bob Hicok

In Michael Robins’s Class Minus One by Bob Hicok

At the desk where the boy sat, he sees the Chicago River.It raises its hand.It asks if metaphor should burn.He says fire is the basis for all forms of the mouth.He asks, why did ...

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An Old Story by Bob Hicok

An Old Story by Bob Hicok

It’s hard being in lovewith fireflies. I have to doall the pots and pans.When asked to partiesthey always wear the samecolor dress. I work days,they punch in at dusk.With the ...

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Duke by Bob Hicok

Duke by Bob Hicok

He was hit back of the head for a haul of $15,a Diner’s Club Card and picture of his daughter in a helmeton a horse tethered to a pole that centeredits revolving universe. Pacing ...

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Translator’s Note by Bob Hicok

Translator’s Note by Bob Hicok

There is a tradition in Laparone that the firstman to wake each morning must sweepshadows from his porch lest nightpull the long limbs of sunlightinto its mouth and devour the ...

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For Three Whose Reflex Was Yes by Bob Hicok

For Three Whose Reflex Was Yes by Bob Hicok

Nobody I know is a god. A mother and son fall into the river's million hands, the river's smash and grab. They go under, climb the ropeless water up, wave, open their mouths ...

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Her My Body by Bob Hicok

Her My Body by Bob Hicok

about the left nipple of the woman in the bathroom.She is drying her hair, the womanwhose left nipple is sore. We looked this evening for diagonal cutsor discolorationor ...

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Report From The Black Box by Bob Hicok

Report From The Black Box by Bob Hicok

For Flaco A coolerhead of lettuce prevailed, but when the actorasked his question and pausedfor us to watch him pause and thinkinside the ...

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By Their Works by Bob Hicok

By Their Works by Bob Hicok

Who cleaned up the Last Supper?These would be my people.Maybe hung over, wantingdesperately a better job,standing with rags in hand as the window beckons with hills of yellow ...

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The Semantics Of Flowers On Memorial Day by Bob Hicok

The Semantics Of Flowers On Memorial Day by Bob Hicok

Historians will tell you my unclewouldn't have called it World War IIor the Great War plus One or Tombstoneover My Head. All of this languagecame later. He and his buddiesknew it ...

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Man Of The House by Bob Hicok

Man Of The House by Bob Hicok

It was a misunderstanding.I got into bed, made lovewith the woman I found there,called her honey, mowed the lawn,had three children, paintedthe house twice, fixed the ...

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A Private Public Space by Bob Hicok

A Private Public Space by Bob Hicok

You can’t trust lesbians. You invite themto your party and they don’t come,they’re too busy tending vaginalflowers, hating football, walking their goldenand chocolate labs. X gave ...

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O My Pa-Pa by Bob Hicok

O My Pa-Pa by Bob Hicok

Our fathers have formed a poetry workshop.They sit in a circle of disappointment over our fastballsand wives. We thought they didn't read our stuff,whole anthologies of poems that ...

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Epithalamium	 by Bob Hicok

Epithalamium by Bob Hicok

A bee in the field. The house on the mountain reveals itself to have been there through summer. It's not a bee but a horse eating frosted grass in the yawn light. Secrets, the ...

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Full Flight by Bob Hicok

Full Flight by Bob Hicok

I'm in a plane that will not be flown into a building.It's a SAAB 340, seats 40, has two engines with propellersis why I think of beanies, those hats that would spina young head ...

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Feeling The Draft by Bob Hicok

Feeling The Draft by Bob Hicok

We were young and it was an accomplishmentto have a body. No one said this. No onesaid much beyond “throw me that sky” or“can the lake sleep over?” The lake could not.The lake was ...

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A Shopkeeper’s Story by Bob Hicok

A Shopkeeper’s Story by Bob Hicok

I sell one bristle brushes. Peopleseeking two bristle brushes I sendto the guy on Amsterdam, who’s in a rush.I may have one customer a yearfor my one bristle brushes, a ...

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Dropping The Euphemism by Bob Hicok

Dropping The Euphemism by Bob Hicok

He has five children, I’m papato a hundred pencils.I bought the chair he sat infrom a book of chairs,staplers and spikesthat let me play Vlad the Impalerwith invading memos. When ...

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Happy First Anniversary (In Anticipation Of Your Thirty Ninth) by Bob Hicok

Happy First Anniversary (In Anticipation Of Your Thirty Ninth) by Bob Hicok

I don't have much time. I'm an important personto chickadees and mourning doves, whose feeder was smashed last night by a raccoon. Soon I'll be wielding duct tape, noticing the ...

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The Smiths, As I Understand Them by Bob Hicok

The Smiths, As I Understand Them by Bob Hicok

There's a box at the hospital in which to depositchildren unlikely to win the Nobel Prize.They cradled their son past that box,though he'd been born with a pillow factorywhere his ...

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Unmediated Experience by Bob Hicok

Unmediated Experience by Bob Hicok

She does this thing. Our seventeen-year-old dog. Our mostly deaf dog.Our mostly dead dog, statisticallyspeaking. When I crouch.When I put my mouth to her earand shout her name. ...

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