by Gary Hardaway

Moose, Medea, and Blanche DuBois

Despite repeated feedings
and other acts of kindness,
the cats remain
steadfastly skeptical.
I like that in a cat.
Egyptians made them gods--
no doubt on that account.

Dreams of Google in a Noose Disturb My Sleep

If I could, I'd strangle all the algorithms
clotting the desperate
21st century nonscape.
It's not the math
but the application
and clawing ROI's
I despise.

Note: ROI = return on investment


Whole frogs are
too difficult.

Caveat Emptor

Agoraphobia infects me. Dread
infuses every necessary trip
into the world. I tremble, certain cranked
and meshing markets wait to grind me down
to ever thinner and more pourable  paste.

Katy Perry Nibbles My Inner Cochlea
for Alex Pruteanu

Pop songs insinuate the brain,
their wriggling DNA
dating back to Ur
and earlier.
More sinister serpents await.


It's like a trance but better. You become your purpose,
whatever purpose that might be, and there is no disjunction
between the mind and the fingertips and the form that follows
as a natural consequence of seizure and what seizes you
is inter-dimensional calligraphy. It's done, you rest, it's gone.