The dead have no ears, no answering machines that we know of, still we call.

My heart/ is whatever temperature a heart is/ in a man who doesn’t believe in heaven.
BOB HICOK

Believe Heart Men Temperature
And when I touch you in each of the places we meet, in all of the lives we are, it’s with hands that are dying and resurrected. When I don’t touch you it’s a mistake in any life, in each place and forever
BOB HICOK

Each Forever Lives Meet Mistake Place
Here, when I say I never want to be without you, somewhere else I am saying I never want to be without you again.
BOB HICOK

Else Hands Mistake Somewhere
The dead have no ears, no answering machines that we know of, still we call.
BOB HICOK

Ears Grieving Machine

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