Not Dover Beach
If we should disappear,
the planet will be fine.
The sun and its thrall
will be just fine.
The galaxy and universe
will most certainly be fine.
For whom or what would our
disappearance register as loss?
For no one and no thing.
Our disappearance would register
as the movement of a sand grain
on a windy beach full of sand.
My hatred spreads in multiple directions,
wishing to crush enemies in multiple directions,
in a spread like the arms of an octopus,
a baby octopus, whose tentacles
reach a tiny spot of ocean
and leave the stretching spread of evil
untouched and uncrushed.
History and Consequence
There is no history. There are only
stories you accept as true enough
to be believed. The Garden, perhaps.
The five years more war
and thousands of dead without
Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
That the war between the states
was a matter of states’ rights.
Fuck the states. They are run
by assholes and corporate interests
anyway. There is no history- only
consequences that will kill us all.
Becoming Stardust Again
the sun’s red swell
Work by Gary Hardaway has appeared at Gumball Poetry, Manifold,
Silkworms Ink, Camroc Press Review, The Olentangy Review,
The Arlington Review, and Blue Fifth Review. He currently lives
in Texas and has earned his living as an urban planner and architect.