| Title | : | Sex \u0026 Love \u0026 |
| Author | : | |
| Rating | : | |
| ISBN | : | 1556594755 |
| ISBN-10 | : | 9781556594755 |
| Language | : | English |
| Format Type | : | Paperback |
| Number of Pages | : | 80 |
| Publication | : | First published May 10, 2016 |
to or with or for me—while wearing the loose breeze
of a dress or standing inside its red zero on the floor—
while bending over and pulling her shorts down
on a racquetball court or to reach the water
shutoff valve behind the fridge—as Satie
whispers against our thighs or humming
her brain's native tune as we touch
the smudged glass protecting extinct beetles
in a museum—with her lips swaddling my tongue
or finger up my ass—is tell the truth—
which makes my wife the hottest woman
I've ever known—her mouth erotic every time
she speaks—she is an animal when it comes to sex
and love—comes to us—in that she doesn't primp
in front of the mirror of what she thinks I want
her to say or be—the only real flesh—only naked
that matters––how she looks at me
Bob Hicok 's poems have appeared in the New Yorker , Poetry , and the American Poetry Review . His books have been awarded the Bobbitt Prize from the Library of Congress and named a "Notable Book of the Year" by Booklist . Hicok has worked as an automotive die designer and a computer system administrator. He is currently teaching at Purdue University.
Sex \u0026 Love \u0026 Reviews
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I've read this book backwards and forwards and lingered over almost every poem. Probably the most joy I've ever gotten from blatant heterosexuality. Sexy and good.
"For a time we licked toes & liked it
& neither of us asked each other to wash..."
Pick it up to read the rest ;) -
Well, that was interesting. Thanks to Karla for lending me a copy. It's 12 am and I'm exhausted. I'm going to bed.
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Hicok turns his unflinching attention to intimacies, real and imagined. Sex & love &, yes, death are the dominant themes in this collection. The poems range in subject from the erotic to cancer, technological disconnect to conflicts of gender and identity. All the poems are watermarked by Hicok ' s exuberant cosmicomics (to borrow from Calvino) meaning a sense of humor about our place in the cosmos that is not "ironic", acerbic or mean but in its searching intelligence more akin to truth. I picture him at his desk every morning with the glee of a boy designing the coolest, craziest tree house for his friends to hang. His curiosity knows no bounds and you know, with no room left for doubt, that he freakin cares. That rarest quality in human beings, let alone famous poets: he actually gives a damn. And he'll have you laughing the whole rollicking ride through. Sit back, light a spliff and drink these poems in. It'll be good for your soul, your date and the universe.
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As usual, Bob Hicok's poetry is cunning and thought-provoking. This time, he takes on--as the title promises--sex and love. It's not a poet's romantic vision of these things, but the clumsy, awkward reality of them. Brilliant book.
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Look, I know it's a hard sell to hop onto Goodreads and advocate for a book burning but......
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These are love poems. Some might better be described as sex poems. But Hicok is about a lot more than those 2 breathtaking themes. For one thing, he has a mischievous sense of humor. But some of these poems also concern themselves with loss or with his own particular place in the universe or how nature informs his love for the woman in the poems, his wife. Hicok is known for his ability to articulate different ways of observing the world around him. There's some of that here, as well, but most often he's gazing face-on and reporting what he feels. What he feels is wonder, gratitude. At one point he says in one of the poems mentioning his wife by name:
Does light arrive
or darkness leave? -
this book gets 1 star for making my life feel like a sitcom cause it was lent to me by someone I went on a couple nice dates with and IT IS HORRIBLE!!!! so now I can never date her cause I couldn't possibly date someone I can't be friends with on Goodreads anyway happy Valentine's day
I couldn't finish this which I basically never let myself do -
After my good friend's ex-wife took their "Elegy Owed" in the divorce (a Christmas gift from me) and my girlfriend took my personal copy (not a gift from me), forcing me to buy a second personal copy, I made sure to buy two copies this time around. One for myself and a copy for my girlfriend for our anniversary next week. After all, what is one man's humor, honesty, vulnerability, wit, and love for his wife but another man's aphrodisiac?
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Bob Hicok is not afraid to write about love and sex and all its human consequences. His musings touch on aging, ambivalence, distance, intimacy, impotence, and marriage. And what's marvelous is how he manages this with wit and humor and tenderness. I mean, "The private life of flesh," a poem that begins speaking of his wife not happy with the fact that one breast is larger than the other ends with, "You think your breasts are weird, look at my testicles, and she does look at my testicles, and my testicles blush and turn away."
I don't know if Hicok meant the following poem, "Microcosm" to read as a senryu or not, but it's one of the funniest -- and poignant -- I've read in a long time:
"My penis goes into my wife
a young boy and comes out an old man."
Basically, Hicok writes poetry as slices of life; they make sense and they make a point and they don't draw attention to themselves like so many contemporary poets trying to sound profound or enigmatic. It's poetry for the rest of us. -
A playful yet powerful collection with stark imagery and some steamy interludes. Keep this one away from the kids and parents. "Friends" hits a sad chord while "Why We Must Support PBS", a few pages later, a hilarious imagination of an interview between Charlie Rose and an 18th century executioner.
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A fantastic work of poetry. His frankness would probably make some people I know squirm, but as usual I am enamored by Hicok's talent with words.
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Straight people are funny but apparently they can be sexy and interesting as well.
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A bit too precious; also, Hicok is a bit too overzealous in sharing aspects of his wife's genitalia.
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devious subject matter so very scandalous, but why the chunky paragraphs? Why does bob hicok love chunky paragraphs? Is it pure sloth?
Tries to be too abstract, when love and sex is anything but an abstraction.
After faster
We lie
laid-she
a cocoon of me
of me of her
in a reciprocal
wrap of arms
the fraction of fuck
thats friction
all over
the faction of affection
thats hump
all gone leaving
a sleepy potion
of semen
and lubrication-
leaving love
this poem has promise, definitely relies on aliteration, but is too short to be gratifying -
I'm guessing the word to follow the second & in the title is not "poetry" as there is precious little of it here. Lots of sex and mild profundities and some damn touching moments, but ultimately not really impacting as poetry. Perhaps I am splitting hairs, but these felt more like micro prose pieces with arbitrary line breaks. I'm not a poetry snob-- in fact, I'm pretty forgiving-- but nothing here made me think, "Wow, this guy is a helluva poet!" More, "This guy is very brave and likes to write about how much he loves his wife. And loves sex with her." So not a terrible book, just not my cup of poetry.
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I always love Hicok's work! He takes gorgeous risks, a kernel of the existential ironic humor of life in the often surprising turns exists in almost all his poems. Beautiful and courageous choices of language. He knit the movement of love and sex so well. I truly give this book a 4.5 stars because I didn't like title which felt a bit boring or trite for such elegance within (and I'm big on 'startling' titles) and because the writing/talking of sex--from men--is so overdone it can feel like the cliché it has become. Unfortunately a few of the poems were such. But don't miss this book; I realize this is my subjective weariness.
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One of the better poem titles: “To join my religion, breathe”
and, although it will not be everyone's cup of tea (parental guidance advised), there are some clever ruminations on the body, and, as promised, sex & love:
“…My jizz/ is my job and my job is to say,/
Look, the void lost./ Where nothing might be, there is something./
A fly./ A whisper./ An us.”
“…I’m trapped in this falling-apart/ house with legs, this proposition of bone and meat/
that was assigned to me by a dresser of souls…” -
It's a lot about marriage and getting old. It was great- have never read a "page-turner" poetry book before.
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Ardent sensuality pervades bob hicok's eighth book sex & love &. These poems are both an ode to his wife Eve (and what they've made between them) and a riotous if slightly guilty celebration of word play. Many poems are frankly carnal. They exude youth (and in at least one case crave youth). Others engage the changing sexuality of older bodies that are getting fatter and graver and less reliable. These last are infused with a mix of defiance and self-deprecating humor. Hicok has created an intensely physical world here, where prudery of any kind is alien.
