On The Fence
On the fence
On a Thursday
In France
Wishing I could just dance
Sat with you yesterday
When it was Wednesday
Dreamed it was Friday
On the fence
On a Monday
In Jakarta
Sucking on sweets
Smarty pants treats
Tuesday’s horror
Incomparable to a full parking lot
On a hot day
Friday came
And Friday went
Dawn brought Saturday
And Jesus brought Sunday
On the fence
That bordered divided lands
On the fence
That put scratches all over my hands
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.11.13.11.47.00@345ParkNYC
Donut
What’s that you got there?
What are you hiding from me?
Is that a donut in your bag?
A frosted donut?
Chocolate dip?
Twist?
Jelly filled?
What’s that you got there?
What are you hiding from me?
Is that a donut in your bag?
Glazed?
Got sprinkles?
Pumpkin? Apple?
Perhaps a Blue Corn donut?
Is that a donut in your pocket?
A donut in your bag?
A bagged donut?
A bagged donut in your pocket?
A pocketed donut in your pocket?
A bagged donut pocketed in your pocket?
Is that a donut?
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.11.12.15.59.00@345ParkNYC
Bright Lights
Bright lights
On top of that mountain
On the streetlamps
On helmets in a cave
Sky diving out of planes
Searching high
And searching low
Coal mining
Diamond hunting
Eyebrow piercing
Tongue gauging
Light flickering
Switching off
And switching on
Insects drawn near
Rotating and spinning
Feeling the dizzy thirst
In the office
All morning
Day and night
Brain dripping
Protein leaking
Forever crashing
Column crushing
Chord cutting
Melody playing
Sleight of handing
Cereal crunching
Flame and Fire
Spark heart’s desire
Paused for the DEI hire
West Coast buyer
Injected light
Swallowed light
Light at night
Night light
Late night
Better not bite
I’m headed out
Better not shout
Crying in the light
At first light
Morning came and gone
Forever a song
Bright lights
In my throat
Can’t see and can’t hear
Can’t even swallow a salty tear
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.11.11.10.34.00@345ParkNYC
Boxes
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
Misery
Moving
and
Memories
Stuffing
Selling
Shipping
Storage
Sorting
and
Toys
and
Vinyl records
And wishbones, human teeth, and specimens
And
Sketchbooks
Pencils
Pens
Inks
Paint
Crayons
Saw blades
Hair
Ashes
Bones
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
25.11.02.13.01.01@130BklynNYC
If
There have been a lot of ifs lately
If this, then that
If that, then this
If that and that, then this
If this and that, then this
If this and this, then that
If that and this, then that
If that and that, then that
If this and that, then that
If this and this, then this
If that and this, then this
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.10.28.13.34.00@345ParkNYC
Falling Airplane
If I was an airplane,
I’d fall from the sky
Like a feather gently riding the wind
Until I slowly and safely and steadily
Landed in a grassy glen
Hidden from all the people
That just moments before
Looked at the sky with their fingers pointing
Exclaiming, “Look at that airplane falling from the sky!”
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.10.13.13.15.00@345ParkNYC
Zombie Psychologist
One foot in front of the other
Left foot
Right foot
Out of bed
Made the bed and tucked in the sheets
Fluffed the pillow and the cat sat down
Committed to plans and kept them
Cooked dinner and ate it
Prepared breakfast and ate it
Scrubbed the dirty tiles
Washed the floor spick and span
Did some book binding in my imagination
Sharpened some pencils in the studio
Attended to the honeybees outback
Watered the dying dry plants
Looked up my old forgotten enemies
Said hello to new friends over the phone
Read the newspaper from front to back
Finished the crossword puzzle in record time
Fixed myself up while gazing in the mirror
Tied my shoes and felt I needed new soles
Ate gumbo from the swamp shack
Put out the cigarette on the cement wall
Chased the ocean tide high and low
Never for a moment did I have any doubt
Danced around the crackling campfire
Wished upon a star that was falling from the sky
Kept every told secret hidden all my life
Whispered the truth to the old man on the park bench
Heated up the oven to 375 for a fresh bake
Laundry day came early with so many worn clothes
Dusted the shelf and admired my specimens
Collected downtown ash on the hood of a cop car
Naughty tales shared and swapped
Like wives and husbands at the swinger’s ball
Flew a kite as high as it could go
Buried a spotted dog in the backyard
Looked up the tree and what did I see
My younger self yelling back at me
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.10.13.13.06.00@345ParkNYC
Black Dick
Black Dick
Black Dick
Where are you?
Back Dick
Black Dick
Where are you?
Black Dick
Black Dick
Where are you now?
Never had Black Dick
Never had on my leg a deer tick
Never said no to an invitation to The Frick
Never had Black Dick
Cause I don’t like Dick
Except for my Dick
Which is sorta like a Black Dick
But I’ve got a Big White Black Dick
So, take out your tongue and have a lick
Be prepared for a late-night kick
Up my sleeve, a stratosphere trick
So, take it down and slurp up my dip stick
Black Dick
My Big Black Dick
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.09.23.14.43.00@345ParkNYC
Strange Things Happen In Ohio
So many things
Are happening everywhere
Outside closed doors
The world rotates
On an imaginary axis
Slowly orbiting the sun
Knock at the door in Cincinnati
Led to a phone call to the police
A cruiser came by
Officers arrived and made a call
An unmarked vehicle came by
Detectives took fingerprints, took notes, took coffees to go
I-75 was just outside her door
Big potted plants stood like soldiers on her porch
A dim light danced with night-time moths
But the moon is what really claimed the night
She exited through the back door
Slipped on out and bypassed all the investigators
Went to the bus station for a Greyhound
Decided it was time to flee
And make for the Eastern Seaboard
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.09.23.14.42.00@345ParkNYC
Tired
I’m tired.
I’m so tired.
I’m tired of my knees giving out.
I’m tired of being too short.
I’m tired of being too fat.
I’m tired of not being able to lift more weights.
I’m tired of my migraines.
I’m tired of not being able to jog.
I’m tired that I don’t read more.
I’m tired of rejected applications.
I’m tired of no press.
I’m tired of no exhibitions.
I’m tired of not being a better artist.
I’m tired of not being a better designer.
I’m tired of losing my breath.
I’m tired of mentioning my cock too much in my writing.
I’m tired of this poem.
I’m tired of washing dishes.
I’m tired of attempting to catch up on email.
I’m tired of living.
I’m exhausted.
I’m tired of the routine.
I’m tired of making art.
I’m tired of doing design.
I’m tired of forward.
I’m tired of reflecting.
I’m tired of cardboard boxes.
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.08.28.16.50.00@NYC
Strangers Are Listening
Recently
I found my way to the internet
More specifically
Actually
An app
Which is short for application
An app called
And on this billionaire owned platform
I find myself in absolute confession
About fears
About truths
About failures
About dreams
About depression
About imagination
About sexual encounters
About …
Thank you, Strangers
For listening
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.08.15.15.31.52@130BklynNYC
The George Washington Bridge
When I was younger,
I thought about jumping off the George Washington Bridge
But I decided not too
Because I didn’t want to inconvenience the drivers
I was younger yesterday
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.08.09.01.17.17@130BklynNYC
Everything Is All Right
Everything is all right
They tell me
And I tell them
But really, what is the truth of it?
Would I be lying if I told you I am no longer depressed how I once was?
Would I be lying if I told you that I don’t contemplate suicide anymore?
Would I be lying if I told you that I don’t think of suicide daily?
Tell me that everything is all right
Tell me that everything is going to be okay
Tell me that everything will work out
And I’ll tell you,
Everything is all right
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.08.07.15.50.12@130BklynNYC
Infamous Ashlee
Sat behind a desk at 599
Overlooking the city’s Houston
She had Doberman pinscher temporary tattoos
Displayed on her big guns
That went rat-tat-tat-tat-tat
She was a wild cat wild for fast cars
That growled and meowed and purred and went
Woooooooooosh!
Ladies adored her
Jealous of the brunette upstairs
Men lick her big black boots
Vicious red meat demolished
Light the booze on fire
Explosion of desire
Melted the asphalt street
Years later alerted me to the celebrities at heart
Lost touch with years between
Admire her photographer
Close so very near
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.08.01.19.20.00@130BklynNYC
08.05.13.16.03.00@599BWAYNYC
Briefly
Brief
Moment
Witness
It was brief
It was just a moment
Almost timeless
It was the whisper of a witness
A long good-bye
A hand-held
Just last night
I spoke to her on the phone
We laughed, we made plans, we said our good night
The phone rang this morning
I’ve been summoned to the city morgue
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.08.01.17.41.04@130BklynNYC
All That Remains
The prey for the predator
The fading last dawn
Carcass on the floor
Judged by authority
Living interpret my will
One stands
In water not of this mother
Wind wraps her hands around her ears
Broken glass intrudes anniversary
Knocking
No water will drown his tears away
No fire will burn like his lasting pain
No earth can bury his devotion so deeply
No wind can carry his desire so upwardly
No love will heal the broken heart of a forever hopeless man
Knock on the door of inferno
Dance on the back of a fallen man
It is not
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.08.01.17.24.36@130BklynNYC
07.10.29.17.20.00@296NYC
Nurse Betty
The window was open that day
Letting the unusually warm January winter breeze to swirl about inside
Flirting with the curtains that shouldn’t have been there
Teasing the tenants of the locked floor
Nurse Betty stood about 5’11”
She was black and reminded me of my grandmother Charlotte
A sharp square jaw
Thin lips
Big rimmed eyeglasses
A bob cut
Nurse Betty caught me more than once
With my pants down
First in the dayroom
Sitting on the couch
Erection in hand
Attempting to break free of the dream
Oma would bring me a banana at her daily visit
We’d sit on the couch
I’d watch the television I didn’t comprehend
Oma would give me back scratches
Her hand on my back
Up and down, a slight tickle, a calming touch
Nurse Betty will scold my Oma
Telling her it was too sexual
My Oma would scold Nurse Betty in return
I’ve never quite seen her so angry
I rotated the hot knob and cold knob in the shower
The running water came to a slow grinding halt
Still wet, I stood there naked, exposed, vulnerable
Nurse Betty opened the door to the bathroom
Called me by name
And said that I couldn’t do that
I couldn’t masturbate
That she knew I’ve been masturbating
She said “I see your penis is all red. I know you’ve been touching yourself again.”
And she told me I couldn’t do that
She told me I couldn’t do that
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.08.01.17.06.08@130BklynNYC
Salt To Taste
I took the meat out of the freezer
I let the meat thaw overnight
I turned off the alarm
I admired the sunrise
I got out of bed
I cleaned my body and cleaned the house
I took out the trash
I washed my hands
I put on my apron
I placed the meat on the cutting board
I carved the meat in preparation for cooking
I placed the meat chunks on skewers
I grilled the meat over the open flame
I opened the door for my dozen dinner guests
I sat them down one by one
I finished preparing the meal
I placed some cooked meat on every guest’s plate
I told each guest to salt the flesh to taste
I listened to my dinner guests admire my cooking
I told them what kind of meat it was after they inquired
I told them my wife died just last week
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.08.01.16.56.56@130BklynNYC
Elevator to the 77th Floor
After entering the lobby of the art deco building
The desk attendant instructed me to take elevator five to the 77th floor
I got in
With a woman
Who had auburn shoulder-length hair
She was in a grey pantsuit which I think was made of linen,
Or something easier to wear in the summer months
With a man
Who had a clean-shaven face
He was carrying a briefcase which had brass hinges with a gold finish,
And a worn leather shoulder strap
With another man
Who had a beard and a baseball cap with the word “DETROIT” on the front in orange stitching
He was deeply involved in a texting conversation
Or perhaps he was just scrolling
With another man
Who was dressed in all shades of various black
He was looking like a young Johnny Cash
And he also had a swagger like Elvis
It was just the five of us
Going up in the elevator
The first man got off on floor 67
The second man got off on floor 71
And the woman got off on floor 75
Then came my floor
- 77 -
I suppose the third man got off on another odd numbered floor
But I really don’t know
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.07.13.20.22.44@130BklynNYC