Author: Bob Hicok

The Maple Is a system of posture for wood. A way of not falling down For twigs that happens To […]

My father’s head has become a mystery to him. We finally have something in common. When he moves his head […]

Who cleaned up the Last Supper? These would be my people. Maybe hung over, wanting Desperately a better job, Standing […]

My left hand will live longer than my right. The rivers of my palms tell me so. Never argue with […]

Drunk, I kissed the moon Where it stretched on the floor. I’d removed happiness from a green bottle, Both sipped […]

Wasn’t on purpose that I drilled Through my finger or the nurse Laughed. She apologized Three times and gave me […]

The telephone company calls and asks what the fuss is. Betty from the telephone company, who’s not concerned With the […]