Status Updates From Sex & Love &

These poems feel different that Bob Hicok's other ones. More dashes, more attempts to describe the ineffable, maybe even Walt Whitmanesque in that, though not necessarily with the long lines and the everyman Americana persona. I don't know. Maybe I'm wrong, but it feels like Hicok is trying to be more straightforward but only because he's writing about something even more dense, something like the universe.

I started reading this when I wasn’t in a very poetry mood and I liked it but wasn’t hooked. (Poetry and I have been on the breaks.) But now I’m back into it and oh my god this is funny. Also sometimes hot but mostly just funny because sex is great but we’re all really just aging meatsacks and Bob Hicok gets it.