Julie knits and writes and knits.

Poetry Blitz

It’s National Poetry Month. And the month is honored starting at midnight when poets and people who like poetry around the world paste up poems in unexpected places for people to find, quite by accident. And so, here is a poem by the amazing Bob Hicok, who sent this to us when my mother died. I’ve printed it entirely without his permission, but in the spirit of the day. So if you like it, go buy a book of his and enjoy so much more…

One of those things we say

My thoughts are with you.

They’re the left sleeve of the white shirt in your closet,
at the far end, away from the other disguises of flesh.

The twist-tie in your ponytail when all else fails.

I am here, weeks of walking away, Ohio and skin
between us, West Virginia and strip mines, I’d hate to count
the rivers, how many other women
with their dying mothers,
their long nights at the picnic table
with stars and the stars of cigarettes again
after so many years of no.

But my thoughts are there and my thoughts
are hands washing the oatmeal pot, taking out the diapers, breath
should come with a warning,


but you would, anyway, breathe.

Breathe and drop a red ball into a lake,
breathe and go to the prom,
breathe and throw a party for the house when the mortgage
has lost its teeth.

And there you are, old.
And as everyone else quits breathing, you keep on.
And then it’s your turn to stop.
And in the second you do, you know something you can’t tell us,
about after, about the story of here.
And your daughter, looking at your face, has no idea
you’re trying to comfort her.

And you have no idea I’m trying to comfort you.

I love how intimate I’ve become with failure.

That leaves, having given up green for brown, sky for earth,
say things when I walk through them.

Gibberish, I think it’s called.

Like my thoughts after six hundred miles of travel,
that shutter banging in wind, that dog
barking at nothing
because every time he’s barked at nothing,
nothing’s gone wrong and why not
keep it that way.



  mothers day poems wrote @

[…] places for people to find, quite by accident. And so, here is a poem by the amazing Bob Hicok years on, human rights crusader fights on OneWorld South AsiaOn March 8, 2008, peace activist […]

  artpredator wrote @

i have recently discovered bob hicok and have posted one of his poems from the new yorker on my blog with an experimental version of my own and an invitation to accept his invitation:
Let us all be from somewhere.
Let us all tell each other everything we are.

come visit my somewhere!

  artpredator wrote @

also which is your favorite book or which would you recommend most? I will have to order one or more from my local children’s bookseller.

very cool that you posted this poem on your knitting blog for people to discover!

I wanted to share that I had my college student during the month post broadsides around campus and town and participate in poem in your pocket day and share poems…

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