George Parks Hitchcock was an American actor, poet, playwright, teacher, labor activist, publisher, and painter. He is best known for creating Kayak, a poetry magazine that he published as a one-man operation from 1964 to 1984. Equally important, Hitchcock published writers under the "Kayak" imprint including the first two books by Charles Simic, second books by Philip Levine and Raymond Carver, translations by W.S. Merwin, and early books by Robert Bly and James Tate.
Hitchcock was born in Hood River, Oregon, graduating in 1935 from the University of Oregon, where he was a reporter on the school newspaper. After college, he worked as a journalist ... more »
Click here to add this poet to your My Favorite Poets.
George Hitchcock Poems
It is our best and prayerful judgment that they (air attacks) are a necessary part of the surest road to peace. Lyndon B. Johnson There is a dark tolling in the air,
The one whose Reproach I Cannot Evade
She sits in her glass garden and awaits the guests - The sailor with the blue tangerines the fish clothed in languages
Clouds rise from their nests with flapping wings, they whisper of worn leather, bracken, long horizons, and the manes of dark
Poem for Jean Varda
I apostrophize panoplies & processions caryatids with their sad hearts & breasts of porphyry
Afternoon in the Canyon
The river sings in its alcoves of stone. I cross its milky water on an old log— beneath me waterskaters dance in the mesh of roots.
Comments about George Hitchcock
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
It is our best and prayerful judgment that they (air attacks) are a necessary part of the surest road to peace.
Lyndon B. Johnson
There is a dark tolling in the air,
an unbearable needle in the vein,
the horizon flaked with feathers of rust.
From the caves of drugged flowers
fireflies rise through the night:
they bear the sweet gospel of napalm.
Democracies of flame are declared
in the villages, the rice-fields
seethe with blistered reeds.
Children stand somnolent on their crutches.
Freedom, a dancing girl,
lifts her petticoats of ...