Classic and Contemporary Poetry: Explained

Bob Hicok’s "Duh" is a poem that presents a series of seemingly random observations, musings, and wry reflections, held together by a tone that oscillates between deadpan humor and existential melancholy. The title itself—"Duh"—suggests a tone of exasperation, as if the speaker is working through thoughts that should be obvious but, when examined, reveal unexpected depth. The poem plays with absurdity and wisdom, juxtaposing trivial facts with profound realizations, building toward an understated yet powerful meditation on communication, distance, and mortality.

The poem opens with a statement of estrangement: “My father is silent and distant.” This stark declaration sets up a quiet tension that will hum beneath the rest of the poem. It is an emotional fact that contrasts with the odd, almost humorous observations that follow, giving the poem a structure in which grief and humor coexist. The next lines shift into a playful, slightly offbeat observation: “The moon is up though sometimes / to the side which is also called / over there.” The phrasing here is deliberately casual, as if mimicking the way a child might describe the moon’s position. This moment introduces a theme of perspective—things are not necessarily fixed, and their meaning shifts depending on where one stands.

The poem then moves into a kind of surrealist domestic wisdom: “Coffee is better brewed / than eaten straight from the can.” The humor here comes from the ridiculous literalism of the statement—no one actually eats coffee grounds—but also from the fact that some truths, no matter how obvious, must still be said. This moment of absurdity is then followed by something much heavier: “When someone is dying / we should unpack the clever phrase / I am sorry.” This shift is striking—the phrase "I am sorry" is presented as a linguistic object, something that has been packaged neatly but needs to be opened, examined. It suggests that expressions of sympathy, though conventional, should be reconsidered, unpacked for their real meaning rather than used as automatic social currency.

Hicok continues to mix the mundane with the abstract: “Wrenches / the wrong size should be distracted / until the right bolt arrives.” The idea of distracting a wrench personifies it, turning it into something almost sentient. It also humorously suggests a patience with imperfection, as if waiting for the right fit rather than forcing a mistake. The next lines expand on this idea of internal landscapes: “Inside your head is a map / of your house and inside that map / is where you actually live.” This observation suggests a disconnect between physical space and mental perception—between the real and the imagined. Where we think we live is different from where we physically exist, reinforcing the theme of internal versus external realities.

The humor sharpens as the speaker moves to bodies in motion: “People doing jumping jacks / look like they’re trying / to start a fire by rubbing / the sticks of their body / together.” This image is hilarious in its absurd accuracy—jumping jacks, when reframed in this way, suddenly appear futile, desperate. The poem frequently makes such shifts, transforming everyday actions into something either comical or quietly existential.

Hicok then critiques language itself: “Vague nomenclature / is not the correct response / to thank you.” This line suggests that precision matters, that when someone acknowledges us, we should not respond with ambiguity. In a poem so concerned with communication—especially the indirect communication between the speaker’s parents—this moment emphasizes the need for clarity.

The next observation—“It’s surprising / that pencils and erasers get along / as well as they do.”—introduces an unexpected metaphor for contradiction and coexistence. The relationship between a pencil and an eraser is inherently antagonistic—the eraser exists to undo the pencil’s work—yet they are found together, sharing a single object. This could serve as a quiet commentary on human relationships, where opposition and correction are necessary parts of connection.

The poem then turns to misperception: “There’s the conviction / in every head that someone else / is happy.” This is a striking moment of existential honesty, touching on the human tendency to believe that happiness is always happening elsewhere. It is this belief that fuels longing and comparison, that makes people “drool / from jets at green rectangles / of earth.” The image of people gazing from airplanes at farmland—seeing a landscape that appears peaceful and idyllic from a great height—perfectly encapsulates the illusion that happiness is something happening somewhere else, just out of reach.

The next lines explore intimacy through a physical metaphor: “why when we kiss / we push hard to reach the pillow / of the tongue.” The phrase “pillow of the tongue” is sensual yet slightly surreal, turning a kiss into an act of reaching, of searching for something deeper. This reinforces the idea that humans are always pressing against barriers, trying to close distances that are sometimes impossible to bridge.

Then comes one of the most striking ideas in the poem: “If we swapped / mistakes they might fit neatly / and with purpose into our lives.” This thought is both playful and deeply philosophical—it suggests that errors, if rearranged, might make sense elsewhere, that our failures could serve as the missing pieces in someone else’s story.

The speaker then offers a personal trade: “I’ll lend you the day I locked / my keys in my mouth / if you give me the night / you got drunk and bought / a round of flowers for the house.” The surreal humor of "locked my keys in my mouth" blends seamlessly with the tender absurdity of "a round of flowers for the house." This exchange proposes a kind of poetic barter system, where mistakes and moments of spontaneity can be shared, borrowed, and repurposed.

The poem returns to the father’s distance: “Whatever my father wants me / to know he tells my mother / who tells me.” This roundabout communication reinforces the emotional distance established at the beginning of the poem. The speaker is caught in an indirect loop, never directly receiving his father’s thoughts but only their filtered versions.

This leads to the final and most haunting image: “This reminds me / that if I put my ear to the ground / I’ll hear the stampede / of dirt no cowboy can keep / from rolling over my head one day.” The inevitability of death is presented as an approaching force—the earth itself moving toward the speaker, an unstoppable burial in waiting. The phrasing "stampede of dirt" is both violent and natural, emphasizing mortality as both chaotic and inevitable.

Hicok’s "Duh" is a poem that disguises its depth beneath layers of humor, randomness, and casual phrasing, but at its core, it is a meditation on communication, longing, and the certainty of death. The poem revels in playful observations but ultimately circles back to the weight of estrangement and mortality. The father remains distant, happiness remains a misperception, and the ground beneath us is always, inevitably, moving closer.

Copyright (c) 2025 PoetryExplorer

Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!

Other Poems of Interest...