She once said, worn out, drawn out,

sketched in pearl light, that there
can't be one without the other, they are
one in the same,
but give me hate.
though not free and promiscuous, to dish out
to who ever might come along.


Two sides of the same thing she said,

cheapening it to less than a cliché

tossed back and forth on her tongue,

betting on nothing,

but give me hate,

though not to dispense on ideals

or types I've dreamt over.


Live without one, and the other

won't follow. Have no desire, and you

will have no pain. No one murders

when at peace,

but give me hate

just so that the other

might be possible.


Look, I'm not going to open

my bed to anyone, just because

they're white, but I might

because they're there, but I'm not

going to hate them because they're

there any more than I'm going to

pin my angry lust to a dream.


But, come to me

with the words

hacked from a bone

and I'll show you hate.

Come with ideas muffled

beneath clouds and

plundered from gravesand I'll show you hate -

pillaged from places

you've never been,

overheard in crowded trains

and I'll show you hate.

Take what I've said, take it all, 

and give it back disjointed, malformed,

for it is yours listener,

and I'll return you hate in plenitude.


Erase all that, she said

when tea became what we

did. For therein

lies despair.


Therein? - Despair? 

What shows

have been filling her Sunday mornings.

But no that's anger,

not true hate, hate for

which my spleen is overflowing.

Yes, spleen, to the hearts red.

How very historical. Unfortunately

the General had ideology

stuck between his bared teeth

and Trotsky only embraced those

as was customary. However, if

the General's teeth could be cleaned, he and Trotsky

would blue and blacken each other with their lips

from necks to thighs

clutch each other tight,

peel skin

get inside

turn inside out

into each other, and

as one hand pulls the other

would push