As The Night Falls
The biggest threat
Are the words unspoken
As the thoughts remain inside
Hidden from the outside world
Hidden from any chance of
Assistance
Understanding
Or Help
Thoughts
Covered
Coveted
Camouflaged
Disguised so deeply
Unrecognizable
Unintelligible
Words swept away
Words kept under lock and key
Words sheltered beneath layers
Words that have become secrets
Words woven into my unconscious
Words placed in solitary confinement
Words tucked and compartmentalized
Words isolated from an ignored reality
Words at the bottom of my emotional sea
Words placed on shelves in the chambers of my heart
The biggest threat
To my ongoing existence
Are the unspoken words
Are the words unspoken
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.12.18.15.53.00@245ParkNYC
Opportunistic Droplets
One
Two
Three
Drip
Drop
Droop
Droplets from the sky
Droplets don’t ask why
Droplets from her mouth
Droplets down south
Droplets from mother
Droplets from another
Droplets from the baby
Droplets of the flu maybe
Droplets while working
Droplets in corners lurking
Droplets on the train
Droplets from the rain
Droplets in the elevator
Droplets are the healthy traitor
Drip
Drop
Droop
Droplets to go
And droplets to stay
Droplets to take away
Droplets to go
And droplets in formation
Droplets for all the nation
Droplets to go
And droplets to fear
Droplets to make disappear
Goodbye droplets
Bad bad droplets
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.12.18.09.18.28@345ParkNYC
Rusty Nails
Rusty nails
These rusty nails
Rusty nails in my feet
Between my toes
Rusty to the heads and tails
Rusty nails in the palm of my hands
Rusty nails in my heels
Rusty nails up my nostrils
Rusty in my forehead
Rusty in my bones
Rusty to rest
And resting to rust
And old
And rust
To dust
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.12.17.10.55.39@345ParkNYC
Inside the Room
Door bolted
Walls held past photographs
Some photographs were in color
Some were not
Photographs of unknown people
Unfamiliar people
All photographs were in frames
Frames from different decades
The walls locked secrets
Whispered revealing stories
Escaped the dreadful past
Cried for the loathsome future
Windows closed and covered
No hint from the wind
No light from outdoors
An avocado green shag carpet
Lined the floor from wall to wall
Cherished stains of wine and caffeinated beverages
A table was in the center of the room
Rectangular with chipped curved corners
A pale mustard yellow Formica top
With chrome legs
Perfectly centered equal distant from all walls
No chairs to sit on
No couch
No La-Z-Boy
No Bean Bag chair
The ceiling had tobacco stains
Echos of screaming
Both pain and pleasure
There was a knock at the door…
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.12.15.13.35.16@345ParkNYC
Could
Couldn’t believe
Could not believe
Belief in what could be
Could have been
Could not
Believe in what could be
Could not have belief
Believe not
Could not not believe
Belief in the believable
Couldn’t believe in belief
Couldn’t have been
Could not believe in
Couldn’t not have believed in
Have believed
Believed in the believable
Could have
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.12.11.16.25.00@345ParkNYC
List of 10: Events I’ve Never Attended
Presidential inauguration
Live taping of a game show
Live taping of a sitcom
Music concert outside of the Americas
The Republican National Convention
The Democratic National Convention
Confirmation ceremony
An NFL game
Trivia night
Speed dating
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.12.10.16.05.00@245ParkNYC
The Wolf’s Blind Eye
Deep in the unknown wilderness
Paths are created by animals I’ll never see
Some paths only traveled on once
Some paths are frequently taken
Some paths newly discovered
Some paths discarded
Animals birthing and dying
At different rates
Depending upon human hunters
Depending upon prey and predator
Depending upon the type of animal
Depending upon availability of food
Depending upon the changing terrain
Depending upon how harsh the weather is
In the brook sprouting in all directions
In the narrows of echoing canyons
In the shadows of every forest tree
In the meadow of innocence
You’ll find a lone wolf
With one blind eye
He is your beacon
Your compass
Your compassionate listener
Your warmhearted spirit
Your generous griever
A friend like no other
And when that lone wolf
Finds you
Do not hide
Welcome it
And die in pride
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.12.09.13.07.26@345ParkNYC
Speed
Crossing the galaxy
At unknown speeds
Could be speed of sound
Could be speed of light
I really couldn’t say
Since I’m not well adverse in knowing facts about speed
I am no expert
Just a mere humble agent of love
Riding the wave of the galaxies
What I can tell you is that
I’m the luckiest galaxy traveler
in the plethora of galaxies
that exist in this grand universe
You may ask why I consider myself
the luckiest galaxy traveler
in the plethora of galaxies
that exist in this grand universe
And if you asked me
“Why do you consider yourself the luckiest galaxy traveler in the plethora of galaxies that exist in this grand universe?"
I’d answer with,
“It’s because I fell in love with you and you fell in love with me."
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.12.08.13.43.11@345ParkNYC
Returned The Moon
I broke a wishbone
I threw a penny in the well
I wished upon a shooting star
I kept a rabbit’s foot in my pocket
I cherished the ladybug on my arm
I saved a four-leaf-clover in my wallet
I have a horseshoe above my entrance
I followed the color to the end of the rainbow
I lit up the sky
I counted the clouds
I wrote dozens of poems for you
I made a choice at the fork in the road
I named names
I asked for a refund
And I returned the moon
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.12.05.21.02.46@130BKLYNNYC
Ring
Church bells would ring
In morning with intentional mourning
A sapphire and diamond ring
Circled her cold dead finger now blue
Best friends would ring
Offering heartfelt condolences
Short breathed and beaten in the ring
Bringing home gold after gold
A furious fire made a ring
Around a sacrificial lamb
Her dreams of a planet’s ice ring
Eclipsed even an asteroid’s belt
The last month lets us ring
Yet another unwelcome year
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.12.05.05.34.00@130BklynNYC
Boxes (Version #2)
These boxes
They had such a grip on me
These boxes
They owned my life
These boxes
They controlled me
These boxes
They prevented me
These boxes
They were in the way
These boxes
For
Love letters and
Greeting cards
Photographs
Drawings
and grandfather’s clothes
Boxes for
Packing Material and
Decorations
Keys, coins, postage stamps
and medications
Important papers
Tax documents
Receipts
Health records
and my living will
Boxes for
Discarded dreams
Lingering tasks
Hidden nightmares
and
Closures
These boxes
For
Misery
Moving
Memories
Momentos
Stifling
Stuffing
Selling
Shipping
Storage
Sorting
Boxes for
Undiscovered discoveries
These boxes
For
Toys
and
Vinyl records
And wishbones, human teeth, and specimens
and
Sketchbooks
Pencils
Pens
Inks
Paint
Crayons
Saw blades
Hair
Ashes
Bones
Boxes for
Enemies
Friends
Foes
Lovers
Heroes
and Protagonists
These boxes
Boxes to the grave
Boxes of life
Cardboard boxes
Controlling boxes
Owning boxes
Box ownership
Down with the vessel
Down with the sea
No more boxes
For you
and
me
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.12.04.06.14.57@130BklynNYC
Everyone Wants My Money
Causes
Shelters
Activists
Charities
Institutions
Non-Profits
Associations
Communities
Organizations
Small groups
Large groups
Minorities
Majorities
Mosques
Churches
Synagogues
Film houses
Art spaces
Museums
Theatres
Centers
Politicians
Pundits
Environmentalists
Researchers
Scientists
Corporations
Hospitals
Schools
Stores
Food banks
Blood banks
My bank
The rich
The poor
The hungry
The unclothed
Panhandlers
Homeless
and
Children in need
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.12.02.13.33.00@345ParkNYC
Lucy’s Cafe
A tale of two
Two blonde bisexuals in bed with me
Back behind the kitchen
At Lucy’s Cafe
One preferred to be on top
One preferred to be on bottom
One preferred it missionary
One preferred it from behind
Both blonde bisexuals in bed with me
Enjoyed watching the other suck me
Both blonde bisexuals in bed with me
Enjoyed watching the other fuck me
Both blonde bisexuals in bed with me
Enjoyed coffee
and grilled cheese sandwiches
and French fries with a side of ketchup
Back behind the kitchen
At Lucy’s Cafe
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.12.01.24.01.03@130BklynNYC
Jumping Rocks
Pebbles
Grey ones
Blue ones
Black ones
Ruby Red
Chilmark Pond
Miami Beach
Commencement Bay
Cliffs of Moher
Dead Sea
Salt
Ebony spheres
Egg whites
Gold tones
Twigs
Driftwood
Sand between your toes
Skipping stones
Setting sun
;
Inverse the sky
Rain clouds envelope the memories
Closed my aging eyes
To never feel the pain again
To never wake up again
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.11.30.17.35.01@130BklynNYC
Sister Snakes
They were twins living together
No birds of a different feather
Secretly they would move under the river
Shed light to dawn bodies quiver
Lonesome island access gained
Bread and butter chained
Together they laughed and cried
Neither would crawl in shame to hide
Loved their liberty
Periscope to mastery
Chivalry cherished on the common sea
Shore to shore a double she
Black thigh high socks
Reveal the pen and paper art locks
They slithered beneath memories
Like reflecting diamond treasuries
Hid in dark corners away from flame of desire
Serpent stirring and sliding higher
Their imagination ignited creativity
Traveled the world for no lack of eternity
They were admired by many
Counted thoughts for your penny
Held accountable for no fault
In each quad chambers vault
Buried deep within the nest heap
Reflecting hearts not bowing to sheep
Identical and comparable
Torn sleeve is bearable
They constrict and construct
Under sheets tucked
Now and then they may adorn a skirt
Ten-fold pump station squirt
Secret songs sing and sung
Avoid their poisonous tongue
Sisters from mother
On your silent face smother
Snakes from father
Below belt no bother
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.11.30.06.44.46@130BklynNYC
Father’s Ghost
I wore a very dusty dark charcoal suit to my father’s funeral
The jacket fit
But the pants were too tight
But I managed to squeeze myself in
This was my old wedding suit from many years prior
It’s been hanging in the back of my closet since that memorable day
Unprotected from the elements
I’m glad only dust got to it
Thankfully, no signs of moths feasting on the suit
It was an overcast day in the last month of the year
A bit cold
A bit wet
A dampness dug into your bones
The sky had that distinct look that snow was inevitable
The sexton had previously dug the grave
All that was necessary was the service
And to lower the coffin into the earth
And perhaps shed a tear
Or two
The trees had dew drops at the ends of each leafless branch
The winter yellow grass was now dead
Mixed with last week’s slush
The wind was absent
Yet agreed to haunt all the mourners
Those that traveled from far away
And those that lived nearby
Father reminded me of nothing
An infant cried in the distance
Several eulogies were incomparable to the lifetime of facts
As we witnessed
A wooden box lost in the dirt
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.11.25.14.23.00@345ParkNYC
Centered Peak Parking Garage
In downtown
Located on Main Street
Is the Centered Peak Parking Garage
In front of the Garage sits Main Street
A street that cuts the town in half
A street that runs the length of downtown
Often the noises of a near-by freight train can be heard
The Susquehanna River runs along the backside of the Garage
At some locations the river is very narrow
At other locations the river is very wide
There are many stories to be told about this Garage
But the one that most townspeople know is about what happened on the upper level
On the upper level
There was a rotation of vehicles
However, the two that were most noticeably always present were
A 1970 Mustard-yellow Volvo 145 station wagon
And an orange Chevrolet Vega from 1974
An elevator brought people to the top of the 7-story Garage
The top shaft of the elevator was high to allow enough room for the elevator gears
In two opposite corners of the Garage were staircases
Parking spots were outlined in white paint
And blue paint for parking spots for persons with disabilities
Signs on posts indicated the rules and regulations of the Garage
On Saturday evenings during the hot summer nights
The top floor of the Garage was closed to vehicular traffic
Shortly after the sun went down the town would always have a fireworks display those evenings
People would gather with blankets and picnic baskets and friends
On the top level of the Garage
To relax, commune, eat, drink, and get lost in the fireworks display
The town referred to these evenings as Summer Saturday Soirées
The story about the upper level of this Garage
That most townspeople know about
Has nothing to do with the Summer Saturday Soirées
And nobody knows
Whom the
1970 Mustard-yellow Volvo 145 station wagon
And
The orange Chevrolet Vega from 1974
Belonged to
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.11.23.19.15.00@130BklynNYC
Sifting Through Sand
Never found a diamond beneath the swing set
Or sold out a show
Never been told I was beautiful without paying someone to say those words
Or tied a bowtie around my neck
Never painted a painting with a hand-made horse-hair brush
Or listened to Elvis on vinyl records
-
Sifting through sand
Sifting through sand
On a sad day in March
-
Never knew my grandfather to march in a Veteran’s Day parade
Or planted a lone tree in a meadow
Never listened to my daughter play flute in the school’s concert
Or had late night conversations with a bartender I didn’t know
Never placed flowers at an early grave on a cold rainy day
Or slept in past breakfast
-
Sifting through sand
Sifting through sand
On a sad day in March
-
Never took a bus North
Or fell in love with a friend
Never returned a book to the library
Or wore my favorite color socks
Never lied to get out of a date
Or messed around with someone’s calendar
-
Sifting through sand
Sifting through sand
On a sad day in March
-
Never baked a frosted chocolate cake
Or ate too fast
Never swallowed my pride
Or apologized without my fingers crossed
Never hit a baseball out of the park
Or sat scared past midnight
-
Sifting through sand
Sifting through sand
On a sad day in March
-
Never woke up in March
Never forgot December
July never came like a revolving door
Sifting through sand
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.11.18.12.39.27@345ParkNYC
Ross’ Roth IRA
My name is Ross.
My appointment was at 9:00am
I got to my financial advisor’s office at 8:45am
I always like to be early
And you never know if the subways are running late or not
At 9:00am
My financial advisor invited me inside their office
I sat across from my financial advisor
A big mahogany desk created a boundary between us
A computer screen helped with the divide
It was obvious a financial division also existed between us
I placed all my paperwork on the desk
Spreadsheets, totals, investments, and statements
My financial advisor advised me on my finances
I signed some papers, initialed some paragraphs
At 9:30am
My financial advisor courteously ended the meeting naturally
And escorted me out of the room
We said our goodbyes
I thanked my financial advisor with much gratitude
And as I did
My financial advisor leaned into me
Grabbed my cock
And whispered in my ear
And I told my financial advisor,
“But I’m not Ross, my name is Kimberly”
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.11.18.09.54.00@345ParkNYC
Fist Full of 25s
Left Fist
Right Fist
Clenched Fist
First Fist
Second Fist
Third Fist
Strong Fist
Hard Fist
Closed Fist
Iron Fist
Shackled Fist
Bound Fist
Arrested Fist
Cuffed Fist
Free Fist
Empire Fist
Last Fist
Day Fist
Night Fist
Weak Fist
Old Fist
New Fist
Black Fist
White Fist
My Fist
Your Fist
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.11.18.08.08.00@345ParkNYC