I wonder at what point the title came in. I was so caught up in the anecdote that I forgot until the end and then realized how brilliant it is, how much work it does for the reader. The leaps and detours reinforce the feeling of compassion and innocence, a sense of helplessness. seeking some comfort and control to cope with the world's sadness.
Sometimes in Hicok’s poems, like in this poem, I get whiffs of “Deep Thoughts by Jack Handy”. But where Handy turns for the basic chuckle, Hicok turns for poetry.
Such wit in tackling this painful subject. From the title on down, it goes against the magnitude of the content, making it evermore impactful. Made me think of Jonathan Swift's A Modest Proposal.
Thank you, Karan, for Bob, for this gorgeous poem that begs my response: In my neck of the planet the trees don't evict their leaves until after the leaves put on their fanciest, most garish nipple tassels and dance up and down those trunks in October. Evictions don't become statistically significant until later November and December. Even right now, the leaves are still dancing in their red and gold for which I give them so much credit (that does nothing to keep them housed) but only acknowledges how hard it is to be still and dancing at the same time.
I wonder at what point the title came in. I was so caught up in the anecdote that I forgot until the end and then realized how brilliant it is, how much work it does for the reader. The leaps and detours reinforce the feeling of compassion and innocence, a sense of helplessness. seeking some comfort and control to cope with the world's sadness.
Sometimes in Hicok’s poems, like in this poem, I get whiffs of “Deep Thoughts by Jack Handy”. But where Handy turns for the basic chuckle, Hicok turns for poetry.
Such wit in tackling this painful subject. From the title on down, it goes against the magnitude of the content, making it evermore impactful. Made me think of Jonathan Swift's A Modest Proposal.
Thank you, Karan, for Bob, for this gorgeous poem that begs my response: In my neck of the planet the trees don't evict their leaves until after the leaves put on their fanciest, most garish nipple tassels and dance up and down those trunks in October. Evictions don't become statistically significant until later November and December. Even right now, the leaves are still dancing in their red and gold for which I give them so much credit (that does nothing to keep them housed) but only acknowledges how hard it is to be still and dancing at the same time.
This is outstanding 💛💛💛. What would you do if you ruled the world for a day? Make it better, oh make it better.
Hicok always travels a vast distance in his poems. I'm always so happy to accompany him on the journeying.
The last line is brilliant, especially how it's qualified by that "just a little."
I adore this so much
Love love love this. Powerful...
Oh, gee. Bob knows how to take a reader for a ride. I could feel him looking around for somewhere to go and just going everywhere.
I love this poet.
I never got past the first line because I couldn't stand the image of a tree "evicting" its leaves. I'll try again later.
He writes really good poems, like this one, so says SixToeVoodooKitty.
Enjoyed every verse.
I love this poem in every way possible.