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the dictionary-of-hate issue
march 2004


I have something very different in mind, which I choose not to share. A hint: It begins with surgery and ends in Kansas City. I bet you wish. I wish, too.
christopher kennedy

Braunkreuz translates literally as brown-cross. It is a "live" medium, elemental, the color is a description of itself and its treacherous activity. Not only a color designed and chosen, but a description of its material, iron.
samantha peale

The mystery of terror/rests in God,/no less in evil.
jerome rothenberg

Listening looking into those things. Always too slow to attract interest. A lonely impression
jukka lehmus

Fine, she thinks. Let them starve. The cats, lean with old resentments, patrol below.
magdalen powers

Bohemia was a place where the girls got     as soon as possible, many books under her fingers, closing sounds    are jarring to some
jeff harrison

what's behind door number one or the curtain of fire -- a spiral bound note book. a dictionary of hate. someone is at the steering wheel saying: " I am oz, the great and powerful, oz."
kari edwards

At night, she had dreamt about the hand that would grow from the finger. Slowly the whole body began to take shape: an elbow bent, skin stretched over collarbones, a vein in the neck pulsed.
catherine kasper

This is my cup/This is my hoax/here is my spinal column in a birdcage/of plaster -- my back abloom/red flower/my astonished heart
megan burns

Deserves to be booked. Book any that haven't bled./Each an appeal to capture.
thomas fink

The bitter cream moth of her mouth,/abundant and almost secretly dancing
lina ramona vitkauskas

And still the list grows, the shrew gets thinner and the boy hears this and that and they fly and audition but really she's just waiting for him to die in a small room like this one so the boy never has to confront his past.
peter conners

a few decent people/of good intention/make the dark/tolerable)
ron bayes

If only machismo was for eunuchs, if only your promises weren't covered in poison ivy, if only the paint matched my pants.
ian alexander faring

Each night he slides a stack of crimson inflationary currency over the sill of the wire wicket, behind which a woman sits who hands him, in return, a loop of blue tickets. Always it is the same girl with whom he dances -- the one in the yellow dress, which makes a crepuscular music, she whose hair is the color of certain sunsets.
norman lock

I placed coal in your stocking/Because I wanted to be near you
mike topp