Love and hate are usually described with love on one side of a very wide spectrum and hate way over on the other. But we are interested in that middle, mixed up, and deeply charged space where love and hate are intimately connected.


Let’s pretend Love and Hate are two people tied up together, not holding hands or making love so much but all of it, all pieces of them, every flake of skin and strand of hair and coil of DNA wrapped together and entwined and bound.

I imagine Love on one side of a paper-thin wall and Hate on the other. Electrical lines run through the wall—they’re the lines that power the entire house—and I think about Love and Hate laying their upright bodies along the wall, pressing their ears into the  plaster, hearing the current pulsing through. It lives right in your spine, a tension like that, a kind of Love-Hate like that.

I think of fights I’ve had in the streets. Once, I loved someone so much that I raged right on O’Farrell, shattering my phone because I could not hold back. I should probably keep porcelain objects in my bag, like a delicate little dachshund or a dairy maid sitting on a stool, so that when the storm comes and the lightening cracks I can go “Here, shatter this.” Because isn’t that it? How Love|Hate makes you want to ruin fragile things? It’s like building a house that you then want to burn down.

When I round the corner and find her raging in the street, I slow my walk and watch her, just let her be. She’s so angry and hurting, this other me. After a minute, when she comes up for air, I lead her down the block to that little inlet where the water meets the shore. I take out all those things that I carry in my bag: the dachshund, the dairy maid, a little jewelry box, a whale. “Go for it, honey,” I say, placing a hammer in her hands. “Go nuts,” and I just let her rage.

As for the shards, she can do with them what she will: glue them back together or make a mosaic or throw them in the sea, or pick them up, one by one, look at and examine and admire them, and then, if she wants, just put them back down. 



Crazed silence in airless space
No sound to make a trace

Terror-terrified-enraged-raging place
All darting, fractured at a breaking pace

Lightning bolts
Ping zagging time

Punching arms swinging
Back and forth (in mine)

Desperate need to find you
can’t let you in

That place that place
got to be understood
Can’t imagine feeling that good.

Lightning cracks on wet earthen bed.
High pitched ringing

If I were in a room with these
break up that closeness in between
Let them be

move them each apart
To there own sides of the room
Too fused too close too doomed


There is a darkened Sea
Where you’ll have room to be

Let’s swim together into
that wide midnight

Go below as deep as you need go
the light diffused from above
it can’t catch you here
No sharp eyes to glove

In your sea
Swim sink breath
Feet finned lungs opened
Let your body be the breeze
Wade deep into my folding

The water absorbs
the lightning blow
Your feverish tracking for danger goes
Dissipates dissipates dissipates
No sharp eyes
No sharp eyes here

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