Comments about Bob Hicok

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ansfavwords: And when I touch you in each of the places we meet in all of the lives we are, it’s with hands that are dying and resurrected. When I don’t touch you it’s a mistake in any life, in each place and forever. Bob Hicok

aquotebot: “I like sweeping words into piles and whispering good night.” –Bob Hicok

ansfavwords: And when I touch you in each of the places we meet in all of the lives we are, it’s with hands that are dying and resurrected. When I don’t touch you it’s a mistake in any life, in each place and forever. Bob Hicok

ink_just_ink: A poem for today, sadly, as for far too many days like it:

goodnatureart: Bob Hicok poem about coming home

caroline_oreo: Anyway this poem by Bob Hicok makes me want to sob

aquotebot: “Absence makes the heart. That’s it: absence makes the heart.” – Bob Hicok

liambatespoet: I have a poem in this issue, among so many amazing poets. I'm sharing an issue with Bob Hicok aha wtf is going on.

jackmmmhouston: From yesterday’s AM Lockdown Poetry Workshop, from Red Rover Red Rover by Bob Hicok

emilyabenton: 5 of 5 stars to Red Rover Red Rover by Bob Hicok

ansfavwords: And when I touch you in each of the places we meet in all of the lives we are, it’s with hands that are dying and resurrected. When I don’t touch you it’s a mistake in any life, in each place and forever. Bob Hicok

YartynaWaer: “People scare me — most people and most of what they say — I'm happier if you're around me at a distance — of miles or years, whatever far is farther away —“ -Bob Hicok, from “I, hermit”

ansfavwords: And when I touch you in each of the places we meet in all of the lives we are, it’s with hands that are dying and resurrected. When I don’t touch you it’s a mistake in any life, in each place and forever. Bob Hicok

skydog811: “A Braid of Unknowing I Tie Before You” by Bob Hicok

ansfavwords: And when I touch you in each of the places we meet in all of the lives we are, it’s with hands that are dying and resurrected. When I don’t touch you it’s a mistake in any life, in each place and forever. Bob Hicok

fireIit: sweet, bob hicok

aquotebot: “I like sweeping words into piles and whispering good night.” –Bob Hicok

saye_mp3: — other lives and dimensions and finally a love poem (bob hicok)

ansfavwords: And when I touch you in each of the places we meet in all of the lives we are, it’s with hands that are dying and resurrected. When I don’t touch you it’s a mistake in any life, in each place and forever. Bob Hicok

riskywiver: This is where I get self-conscious about language, words are love-affairs or séances or harpoons, there isn’t a sentence that isn’t a plea. This is where I don’t care that I’m half wrong when I say everything is made entirely of light. - Bob Hicok

riskywiver: That a portal exists in my wall that even its makers can't govern seems an accurate mirror of life. - Bob Hicok

aquotebot: “Absence makes the heart. That’s it: absence makes the heart.” – Bob Hicok

obestbelovedac: 'Osiris, we beseech thee, rise and give us baseball'! ~ Bob Hicok, 'A Primer'

aliner: I took up skateboarding due to all the death my wife and I have to come: her parents and mine I'm not very good. I fell and broke a tulip yesterday. The day before, I got a ticket for not acting my age. I don't know any of the jargon - Bob Hicok

ansfavwords: And when I touch you in each of the places we meet in all of the lives we are, it’s with hands that are dying and resurrected. When I don’t touch you it’s a mistake in any life, in each place and forever. Bob Hicok

RondaBroatch: Oh, I found this gem of a poem today by Bob Hickok

ansfavwords: And when I touch you in each of the places we meet in all of the lives we are, it’s with hands that are dying and resurrected. When I don’t touch you it’s a mistake in any life, in each place and forever. Bob Hicok

aquotebot: “Absence makes the heart. That’s it: absence makes the heart.” – Bob Hicok

ansfavwords: And when I touch you in each of the places we meet in all of the lives we are, it’s with hands that are dying and resurrected. When I don’t touch you it’s a mistake in any life, in each place and forever. Bob Hicok

ansfavwords: And when I touch you in each of the places we meet in all of the lives we are, it’s with hands that are dying and resurrected. When I don’t touch you it’s a mistake in any life, in each place and forever. Bob Hicok

dialmformars: 12/12 - Sweet, Bob Hicok it was easy to love everything we knew of each other—I had a gift and she had a desire to accept that gift—we were whole

dialmformars: Sweet, Bob Hicok

yamabato: sweet by bob hicok

tothismay: whenever u think you have read every orange related poem u discover a new one. december specific one at that. bob hicok, “sweet”

ansfavwords: And when I touch you in each of the places we meet in all of the lives we are, it’s with hands that are dying and resurrected. When I don’t touch you it’s a mistake in any life, in each place and forever. Bob Hicok

edwereddie: "Up Up and Away", a poem by Bob Hicok |

rabihalameddine: Five years ago: My Most Recent Position Paper by Bob Hicok

ansfavwords: And when I touch you in each of the places we meet in all of the lives we are, it’s with hands that are dying and resurrected. When I don’t touch you it’s a mistake in any life, in each place and forever. Bob Hicok

fabulistpappas: My Most Recent Position Paper Bob Hicok A little bit of hammering goes a long way toward making the kind of noise I want my heart to look up to—or have you ever gone into a woods and applauded the light that fights its way to the ground, . . .

ansfavwords: And when I touch you in each of the places we meet in all of the lives we are, it’s with hands that are dying and resurrected. When I don’t touch you it’s a mistake in any life, in each place and forever. Bob Hicok

ansfavwords: And when I touch you in each of the places we meet in all of the lives we are, it’s with hands that are dying and resurrected. When I don’t touch you it’s a mistake in any life, in each place and forever. Bob Hicok

yashaswinij0: -Other Lives and Dimensions and Finally a Love Poem by Bob Hicok

AdrieLovesPie: Elegy with lies, by Bob Hicok

sumsflowers: on soulmates f. scott fitzgerald / friedrich nietzsche / florence and the machine / andrea dworkin / kiersten white / euripides / audre lorde / phillip pullmann / bob hicok

medhawrites: Bob Hicok, from "Man of the House"; The Legend of Light

ansfavwords: And when I touch you in each of the places we meet in all of the lives we are, it’s with hands that are dying and resurrected. When I don’t touch you it’s a mistake in any life, in each place and forever. Bob Hicok

monoloveclub: "they days are getting longer" by bob hicok

happysaplings: Bob Hicok, from “The Days Are Getting Longer”, Elegy Owed

deepfrieddirt: october; bob hicok, henry ward beecher

ansfavwords: And when I touch you in each of the places we meet in all of the lives we are, it’s with hands that are dying and resurrected. When I don’t touch you it’s a mistake in any life, in each place and forever. Bob Hicok

ansfavwords: And when I touch you in each of the places we meet in all of the lives we are, it’s with hands that are dying and resurrected. When I don’t touch you it’s a mistake in any life, in each place and forever. Bob Hicok

aquotebot: “I like sweeping words into piles and whispering good night.” –Bob Hicok

solosurvivr: Bob Hicok, from “The Days Are Getting Longer”, Elegy Owed

LitPariah: I still think this is an excellent essay by Bob Hicok, and was willfully misread by people looking to score cheap outrage points. "The Promise of American Poetry - Utne - Cure Ignorance"

ansfavwords: And when I touch you in each of the places we meet in all of the lives we are, it’s with hands that are dying and resurrected. When I don’t touch you it’s a mistake in any life, in each place and forever. Bob Hicok

likemindead: A full-service organization by Bob Hicok Read:

poetkarankapoor: “Why does lyric poetry exist?” A short break from Cohen to celebrate another literary hero: Bob Hicok This is a blooper — it's hard to contain the genius of this poem and the wit of the first line. You can listen to the real thing here:

ansfavwords: And when I touch you in each of the places we meet in all of the lives we are, it’s with hands that are dying and resurrected. When I don’t touch you it’s a mistake in any life, in each place and forever. Bob Hicok

ansfavwords: And when I touch you in each of the places we meet in all of the lives we are, it’s with hands that are dying and resurrected. When I don’t touch you it’s a mistake in any life, in each place and forever. Bob Hicok

jasondeanarnold: I have returned so many times to Bob Hicok’s “The Class Visit”.

imvangel: seemoreandmore: “I like sweeping words into piles and whispering good night.” — Bob Hicok

ansfavwords: And when I touch you in each of the places we meet in all of the lives we are, it’s with hands that are dying and resurrected. When I don’t touch you it’s a mistake in any life, in each place and forever. Bob Hicok

aquotebot: “I like sweeping words into piles and whispering good night.” –Bob Hicok

peterforberg: Some I shared, "Other Lives and Dimensions and Finally a Love Poem" by Bob Hicok

ansfavwords: And when I touch you in each of the places we meet in all of the lives we are, it’s with hands that are dying and resurrected. When I don’t touch you it’s a mistake in any life, in each place and forever. Bob Hicok

ansfavwords: And when I touch you in each of the places we meet in all of the lives we are, it’s with hands that are dying and resurrected. When I don’t touch you it’s a mistake in any life, in each place and forever. Bob Hicok

bartlebooth45: This is a good horny poem imo. Bob Hicok.

aquotebot: “Absence makes the heart. That’s it: absence makes the heart.” – Bob Hicok

acephalemagic: I like sweeping words into piles and whispering good night. - Bob Hicok

aquotebot: “Absence makes the heart. That’s it: absence makes the heart.” – Bob Hicok

aquotebot: “Absence makes the heart. That’s it: absence makes the heart.” – Bob Hicok

KathleenHelewa: ooh I love this one by Bob Hicok

Bebi_16: Drunk, I kissed the moon where it stretched on the floor. I'd removed happiness from a green bottle, both sipped and gulped just as a river changes its mind, mostly there was a flood in my mouth because I wanted to love the toaster as soon as possible, and... Bob Hicok

tempestaurora: anyway one of the most precious things in the universe is poetry and today i made a call on tumblr for people to send me their favourite poems and honestly i've had an excellent day please read bob hicok's 'other lives and dimensions and finally a love poem' thank you

rabihalameddine: Last year: Other Lives And Dimensions And Finally A Love Poem by Bob Hicok

ink_just_ink: "Sometimes I wish words had thorns on them, making what I say bloodier, earned." Bob Hicok, My Tao, from Red Rover Red Rover

LoveCarousel: Happy first anniversary (in anticipation of your thirty ninth) by Bob Hicok

TableMusic: "I love how intimate I've become with failure." - Bob Hicok

goldenkeiji: other lives and dimensions and finally a love poem by bob hicok

aquotebot: “Absence makes the heart. That’s it: absence makes the heart.” – Bob Hicok

aquotebot: “Absence makes the heart. That’s it: absence makes the heart.” – Bob Hicok

KashmirMailbox: Here when I say "I never want to be without you," somewhere else I am saying "I never want to be without you again." When I don't touch you it's a mistake in any life, in each place and forever. Bob Hicok, Other Lives and Dimensions and Finally a Love Poem

southern_review: “I might kill you with a touch or breath or a piece of paper with a poem on it warning you to leave me for Jackson Browne and a dog in the woods” —from “Our toxic relationship,” by Bob Hicok, from our Spring 2021 issue:

WillowSprings: from Bob Hicok's "The job" published in Willow Springs 71

bethpratt: The semantics of flowers on Memorial Day Bob Hicok Historians will tell you my uncle wouldn't have called it World War II or the Great War plus One or Tombstone over My Head. All of this language came later. He and his buddies knew it as get my ass outta here

JudithKingston: "Bang." Elegy with Lies, by Bob Hicok.

AnokaTony: ‘Hold’ by Bob Hicok – “Who can explain lonely to ants?”

rabihalameddine: Four years ago: Ode to Magic by Bob Hicok

reustis: Ode to Magic Bob Hicok "The queen asks him, Do the one in which your heart is folded over and pounded with moonlight, in which you claim to miss everything — I like how big your arms are in that one, your throat the size of the universe before silence gets the last word."

natalierthom: The informed reader will recognize the title as a line from Bob Hicok's "A Primer":

PeterGoderie: Spirit ditty of no fax-line dial tone, by Bob Hicok

nyctherapist: I put birds in most poems and rivers, put rivers in most birds and thinking, put the dead in many sentences blinking quietly, put missing into bed with having, put wolves in my mouth hunting whispers, put faith in making, each poem a breath nailed to nothing. Bob Hicok

nofalck: “Sometimes I wish the mouth / looked like the mouth but was just the mouth / being kissed.” —Bob Hicok

nuggetqt: this presence and absence I have tried and tried not to be. - Bob Hicok, from A Country Mapped with Invisible Ink

JReinhartPoet: Important

jrieffel: "Eight minutes, almost nine. I’ve been seeing a star to the east in the morning. It’ll be hard not to give four or five students Ds this semester. Are optimists fools? For eight minutes, almost nine, one man knelt on another man’s neck."

RattleMag: how can we lay this period of time on a blanket and wrap it, roll it in softness and concern and make our way to the other side? —Bob Hicok

EmpoweredPoet: “A Braid of Unknowing I Tie Before You” by Bob Hicok

ExcitedUttRead: “A Braid of Unknowing I Tie Before You” by Bob Hicok | Rattle: Poetry

heswiftvmin: books i've read & re-read so far (starting from winter break): 1. Sally Rooney - Normal People (2018) 2. Bob Hicok - Elegy Owed (2013) 3. Sylvia Plath - The Bell Jar (1963) 4. Margaret Mitchell - Gone With the Wind (1936) 5. Alex S. Vitale - The End of Policing (2017)



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James Joyce Poem
Now, O Now In This Brown Land
 by James Joyce

Now, O now, in this brown land
Where Love did so sweet music make
We two shall wander, hand in hand,
Forbearing for old friendship' sake,
Nor grieve because our love was gay
Which now is ended in this way.

A rogue in red and yellow dress
...

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