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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=352631" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Other Lives And Dimensions And Finally A Love Poem</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">My left hand will live longer than my right. The rivers<br> of my palms tell me so.<br>Never argue with rivers. Never expect your lives to finish<br> at the same time. I think</div><div style="margin:10px 0">praying, I think clapping is how hands mourn. I think<br> staying up and waiting<br>for paintings to sigh is science. In another dimension this<br> is exactly what's happening,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">it's what they write grants about: the chromodynamics<br> of mournful Whistlers,<br>the audible sorrow and beta decay of Old Battersea Bridge.<br> I like the idea of different</div><div style="margin:10px 0">theres and elsewheres, an Idaho known for bluegrass,<br> a Bronx where people talk<br>like violets smell. Perhaps I am somewhere patient, somehow<br> kind, perhaps in the nook</div><div style="margin:10px 0">of a cousin universe I've never defiled or betrayed<br> anyone. Here I have<br>two hands and they are vanishing, the hollow of your back<br> to rest my cheek against,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">your voice and little else but my assiduous fear to cherish.<br> My hands are webbed<br>like the wind-torn work of a spider, like they squeezed<br> something in the womb</div><div style="margin:10px 0">but couldn't hang on. One of those other worlds<br> or a life I felt<br>passing through mine, or the ocean inside my mother's belly<br> she had to scream out.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here, when I say I never want to be without you,<br> somewhere else I am saying<br>I never want to be without you again. And when I touch you<br> in each of the places we meet,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">in all of the lives we are, it's with hands that are dying<br> and resurrected.<br>When I don't touch you it's a mistake in any life,<br> in each place and forever.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Bob+Hicok">Bob Hicok</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=352631" data-title="Other Lives And Dimensions And Finally A Love Poem de Bob Hicok" data-description="My left hand will live longer than my right. The rivers
 of my palms tell me so.
Never argue with rivers. Never expect your lives to finish
 at the same time. I think

praying, I think clapping is how hands mourn. I think
 staying up and waiting
f..."></div>
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