I, hermit
       

People
scare me — most people and most
of what they say — I'm happier
if you're around me
at a distance — of miles
or years, whatever far
is farther away — poems
the only public mouth
I've somewhat somelittle
figured out — but not rooms
where faces bend & bloom —
not how to walk in
breezy or get out
easy — afraid
of the so little listening —
the waves of speaking
cancelling speaking out —
it's more like shooting,
how we talk — more
like rust or roadkill,
how I'll feel
after a party, after all
the hardtrying to be bright
and wanted — so river
and I, field
and I and mountain
hang out — there's that word, out
again — I live out
where there's no in — no cool
or hip or hot — there's
cows, bears, clouds, deer —
none of whowhich — and this
explains my love for them —
ever knock or otherwise
want anything to do
with human

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Copyright © 2016 Bob Hicok All rights reserved
from Green Mountains Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission