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
monostich: What is it about poetry/ that it refuses to die/ no matter how often/ TV shoots it in the head? --Bob Hicok, "Poem for the Left Hand"
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
hourly_oranges: 'Sweet,' Bob Hicok
hourly_oranges: 'Sweet,' Bob Hicok
CarolineBirdUK: This Bob Hicok poem is so, so brilliant. It makes me desperately want to write and never write again simultaneously
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
olsonquest: if I am being more generous, I think of this Bob Hicok poem [
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
timothygreen: Always a fan of Bob Hicok, and especially the ending of this one, "Other Lives and Dimensions and Finally a Love Poem":
When I don't touch you it's a mistake in any life,
in each place and forever.
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
uniform_jr: New Bob Hicok poem just dropped.
noonreveries: for the moment
these desires can best be furthered
by wearing these socks...
(absolutely plagiarised from the genius that is bob hicok's her my body, which is far more transcendental & meaningful. but warm socks)
veryeva: “i thought a good steady rain would bring us to our senses / but five thousand years into the flood, i just don’t know” bob hicok
aquotebot: “I like sweeping words into piles and whispering good night.” –Bob Hicok
ink_just_ink: Just gonna leave this here due to the news
anthonytao: I explained
that “I know this poet” means “I know her work,”
when he was like, work? “When he was like”
is like “he went,” which is past tense of “he goes,”
in case you’re from another country and confused
by our lack of roundabouts
anarchpetditty: I feel like more than a few poetry journals' what we're looking for statements do not correspond to the poems they publish. We want wild; we want formal, etc. And then I read a poem that could be by Bob Hicok.
naalimpungatan: Bob Hicok and his entire collection is one that I always keep coming back to
hourly_oranges: 'Sweet,' 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
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
aquotebot: “Absence makes the heart. That’s it: absence makes the heart.” – Bob Hicok
bekahgrimexists: [coffee is better brewed than eaten straight from the can
a sound like the valley being told to hush
bodies recalling how brief they are]
-bob hicok
PoetNotRockStar: “Words are love-affairs or séances or harpoons, there isn’t a sentence that isn’t a plea.”
— Bob Hicok
zaharaesque: "Words are love-affairs or séances or harpoons, there isn’t a sentence that isn’t a plea."
—Bob Hicok, from “Goodbye”
THEsharvey: We're taking a break at The Humble Essayist for the holidays, but will be back on January 6, 2023. In the meantime, we will continue to run the feature on writing as an act of humility by Amy Wright and Bob Hicok at
THEsharvey: The act of writing "completely obliterates—the doubts and personal bullshit that tools around with me....So yeah—give me that gift every day and I'll treat it with respect and humility. And I give it all the coffee it wants."—Bob Hicok at
readalittlepoem: “This lost person I loved. Loved for a hundred years.”
— Bob Hicok, from “Elegy with Lies”
Also here:
THEsharvey: "...away from the act of writing, I don't see myself as anything special. And it's not that I see myself as special while I write—more that I don't see myself at all." Bob Hicok at
THEsharvey: While writing "there is a disappearance into the act, into the desire or need to speak, that erases—I mean, completely obliterates—the doubts and personal bullshit that tools around with me." Bob Hicok at
THEsharvey: Our feature this week goes to Bob Hicok whose paragraph on humility captures the essence of The Humble Essayist.
Check it out at
RiekkiRon: "I do revise but a lot of the work the way it goes out into the world is the way it came into the world
A lot of the poems have not been changed
I like that
It suits my personality
I think a lot of what I'm trying to do is capture [...] my mind”
—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
hourly_oranges: 'Sweet,' Bob Hicok
hourly_oranges: 'Sweet,' Bob Hicok
hourly_oranges: 'Sweet,' Bob Hicok
ranidaes: bob hicok's her my body, which forever exists in the liminalities of my frontal lobe just because of how viscerally it has shaken my soul, irrevocably, unchangeably:
"I have one way
to be happy
and she is that way."
hourly_oranges: 'Sweet,' Bob Hicok
hourly_oranges: 'Sweet,' Bob Hicok
bobzparker: Bob Hicok is Sunday medicine
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
arhamur_rahimin: The birds I feed seed every morning
never thank me, I tell on them
to my mother
it’s hard
to help the dead be dead
before they are.
She asked
the other day how my day was,
I told her, she asked again,
as if I hadn’t answered
or slept in the rumpus-room
of her womb.
—Bob Hicok
santisugi: To be clear, I have nothing wrong with poetry of grievance. There's much to be aggrieved about. Whenever I hear this kind of assessment of contemp. poetry, I can't help but hear an echo of the Bob Hicok essay, "The Promise of Poetry," i.e. an anxiety about who gets the awards.
SolTroubadour: Feeling the draft by BOB HICOK
We were young and it was an accomplishment
to have a body. No one said this. No one
said much beyond “throw me that sky” or
“can the lake sleep over?” The lake could not.
The lake was sent home...
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
rchlltrmn: interesting section on bob hicok’s wikipedia page
aquotebot: “I like sweeping words into piles and whispering good night.” –Bob Hicok
krishnotchris: Bottom of the Ocean by Bob Hicok
aquotebot: “Absence makes the heart. That’s it: absence makes the heart.” – Bob Hicok
MaryKeatingpoet: "On Sticking Out like a Sore Opposable Thumb" 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
hourly_oranges: 'Sweet,' Bob Hicok
Christo72001319: Directing the Poet to Where His Ego is Billboard Visible. HOLD Bob Hicok
aquotebot: “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
aquotebot: “Absence makes the heart. That’s it: absence makes the heart.” – Bob Hicok
briarforger: a few more favourites that aren't in op's thread or the doc
twt user nelljuly / hafsa qasim / tintin in tibet by mount eerie / sweet by bob hicok
aquotebot: “I like sweeping words into piles and whispering good night.” –Bob Hicok
RattleMag: And forgive us, for we are big-brained
and small-wisdomed, mostly inadvertently deadly
and largely incapable
of understanding the complexity of life
—Bob Hicok
anewscience: Rattle: Poetry
RattleMag: how many lives
and species are single-serving puddings
worth?
—Bob Hicok
EducatorGran: "On Sticking Out like a Sore Opposable Thumb" by Bob Hicok
thespiritist: Read this poem by the astounding Bob Hicok, I am telling you.
ldouglas14: A friend shared this poignant poem. In a way, I needed it right now.
"On Sticking Out like a Sore Opposable Thumb" by Bob Hicok
MyersBurt: For day 3, a book that's been waiting on the shelf for a while, by one of my favorite poets.
erinisaway: lmao I forgot Bob hicok blurbed this l o l
ARabaduex: The river is crashing against my sleep
like it took applause apart and put it back together
as a riot of wet mouths
adoring my ears, is over my head
when it explains string theory
and affection to me,
when it tells me to be the code breaker,
not the code.
-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
jackmmmhouston: “When I had hair, / bees and bugs were everywhere”
— 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
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
RiekkiRon: "Our fathers have formed a poetry workshop.
They sit in a circle of disappointment over our fastballs
and wives. We thought they didn't read our stuff,
whole anthologies of poems that begin, My father never"
--Bob Hicok
"O My Pa-Pa"
rvwable: Bob Hicok -- If I die before I wake
alexandriabarb: Did this guy talk to Bob Hicok or does he actually feel this way
ranidaes: good god. whenever I reread bob hicok's poetry, I go to the toilet to sob. they're lifechanging and this is one of my favourites:
"(...) Running’s natural to most animals
who aren’t part
of a lecture series on Nature’s
Dead Ends. (...)"
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
