Elegy Owed

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"Smart, honest, powerfully inventive, [Hicok's] writing asks the biggest questions while acknowledging that there are no answers beyond the imposed structure of the page."—Los Angeles Times"Seamlessly, miraculously, [Hicok's] judicious eye imbues even the dreadful with beauty and meaning."—The New York Times Book ReviewGritty, complicated, and earnest, Elegy Owed breaks—then salvages—the rules for mourning. While poet Bob Hicok remembers the departed as ephemera or skin cells, fog is invited to tea and the beauty of dandelion fluff is held for ransom. Hicok's language is so humid with expectation and fearlessness that his poems create a clandestine manual to survival.From "The Order of Things":Then I stopped hearing from you. Then I thoughtI was Beethoven's cochlear implant. Then I listenedto deafness. Then I tacked a whisperto the bulletin board. Then I liked dandelionsbest in their afro...