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
4:44pm and 25 seconds
Just in time
The train pulled in
Cargo at the back
Passengers up front
Business, First Class,
Table cloths covering tables
Plastic, Silverware,
Dim down the lights
Dining in, dining out
Star gazing
You can feel the grass between your fingers
They never told you what falling in true love is supposed to feel like
They never fed you gold when you were an infant
They never told you to fade away
Just in time
The train pulled away
Whisked you from the stationary place you’ve been staying in
Whisked you to a new station, a new town, a new life
Whisked you to a place uncommon to your reality
Mushrooms, Marshmallows, Mashed potatoes
They never told you what to expect at a vegan Thanksgiving
Couldn’t be marshmallows
Couldn’t be turkey
Turn off the oven
Get out of the kitchen
Keep looking on
The train is out of the station
The time is 4:44pm and 25 seconds
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.11.17.16.44.25@345ParkNYC
Atonement Truths (Part I)
Escaping never came easy
Hiding never came easy
What came easy to me
Was the difficult path taken
And so,
Came across a door’s hidden nails
Shifting wind for my ship’s sails
Stared out the 12th floor windows ajar
Escaped from mother’s milk bar
The Boxer’s face slammed into the door
Virgin loss was to a Dobbs Ferry whore
Went to a midnight disco with her in Berlin
With my fingers I caressed her skin
A static phone call followed up in Rome
In Madrid woke up out of bed and dragged a comb
Felt like two dozen years between
Her young wet body had the perfect sheen
A barbarian in my own vessel
Twisted thoughts I would wrestle
Held hostage by the greatest heroine to date
Last Supper painting I did create
As she raised her skirt just above the line of suggestion
I immediately raised my hand to ask a question
Greatest enemy left me alone
Blue eyes shut I have sewn
With deep sorrow and sympathy
Created a menstrual symphony
Chin saturated in dripping blood out and in
With prominent debauchery I better not sin
Vowed to confess to the priest
Looked in the mirror to find out I was deceased
From Ohio to Kansas I committed so much incest
Spiraled out of control deeply depressed
I said that I could talk to you forever
She said you better not be clever
Never drank myself to a stirring sleep
Drowned in self-made pornography knee deep
It was just yesterday I broke a plate
Smashed glass not art sealed my fate
Prepare the eulogy and cadaver lab
Turn my skewer meat and pick at my scab
Jars of cow fat sat on a white shelf
Walking down Ridge Street I cackled cowardly at myself
Seated on the wooden bench I’d shuck ears of corn
Hardcore Catholic refused to suck my cock was re-born
Staples in my shoulder held my collarbone
With my arm in a sling I made her melt and moan
Climbed the ladder to release the smoker’s dam
Couldn’t breathe so ran out wham bam thank you ma’am
Participated in London trafficking of sex
From Hackney to Helsinki avoided herpes simplex
Union Square loft fingering
A leftover stench is lingering
Thumb through my forever lexica
From Jocelyn to Jessica
Stole a vermilion Kenworth Aerodyne for a ride
Back door loving in the parking lot can no longer hide
Brunettes, blondes, more than one redhead
Brought them all to my backyard bed
Told the flight attendant I was unwell and about to faint
A Zimbabwe pastor was my hand-held saint
A long road led me to enjoy pissing
Strawberry admired my cock ring
Short changed and last night sticky
Got back home with my sore neck hickey
Golden Arches, American Express, not Coca-Cola
Ran my fingers to flirt with her Ebola
Swab the inside of my cheek
Labia often makes me talk devil speak
At gun point in the backseat of a Buick LeSabre cruising Bensonhurst
Inside his hot MILF wife, I did have my thick cock burst
Crashed Probe on 17th Street
Paul & Christine took me to Joshua Tree heat
Did I tell you I’ve been flown on Air Force One
Probably not because I’m a pathological liar and psychologist’s son
Above Tokyo lights she hid in fright
Dropped the towel to the floor for a sight
Uncommon silence quietly introduced
From Brooklyn to Detroit I seduced
Rubbed false matriarch toes
The truth nobody knows
Dancer’s delight in cat’s bed she bled
I would if I could she said
Eastern European university scream
Spread her legs in shower’s steam
My brother plays the sabar with such perfect grace
Echoing sounds stimulate my memory trace
Postage stamps, LEGO bricks, and teeth left me weak
Step behind the curtains inside Temple Bar’s speak
My tongue so eager to give you pleasure
Length and circumference equals such a great measure
If it’s The Beatles or The Rolling Stones
Can’t tell you, only share my collection of wishbones
Elysium was my neighbor for the longest duration
Jerusalem offered deceptive revelation
Stripped down on 42nd Street for cash
It was my greatest reveal and disgraceful crash
For the errors I’ve conducted on purpose, I offer no apology
Brain inflammation was what lead my sister to Neurology
Take the greatest leap from the sky
There is no time for a cordial goodbye
Captain of the high seas I love to go South
Between your legs I’ll place my mouth
Waiting at the bus stop with school yard crow
Orgasmic meditation let it drip and flow
Taking pictures with strangers in the photo booth
Dreams dictated by the loss of a tooth
Grabbed a yellow cab from Penn Station
Drove down 7th Ave in hopes of a Craigslist’s sensation
Private citizen of the United States
Over consumption of products and plenty of dates
Can’t count on ten fingers and ten toes
Such a distant memory, those backyard hoes
Devil-Eyed departed an early flight from New York
Met her beneath Table Mountain and dined with knife and fork
Forgery over looking Hudson River preggo orgy
Undercover secret is that I’m a member of the clergy
Took her blue convertible BMW from 57th street for a midnight joy ride
Drove north on the Palisades her hands high in the air alongside
Sunrise brought silent vanilla surgeon catching
Under damp wet sheets back scratching
Solanas shot loads of creamy candy
With respect to my dear Andy
An out of stock climbing joyful cowboy
Every passing lover was just a temporary decoy
Her art was often created with a stainless-steel palette knife
Found out too late she surrendered and took her own life
Sold souls to claim fame
At the cross burst into flame
Outside skin been so little bruised
Inside emotional state so self-abused
In Mount Corcovado’s shadow
Iced Skol in my hand, her face in my lap aglow
Compass always pointed her to my infatuation
Can’t believe this long I’ve avoided self-immolation
Invitation to heaven got revoked
My hands around her neck choked
Running with words with nowhere to go
Wish my lockbox was not out of ammo
And so,
My heart was committing treason
When I fought off thoughts of suicide
For no good reason
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.11.15.14.51.25@130BklynNYC
4.2009-11.2025
Heart of Steel
Stolen unnamed streets
Pavement police on the beats
Sneaky bakery eats
Dirty foul cleats
She asked me to come inside
I put my head in her lap and cried
Years later I drowned in the pulling tide
Now kneeling for forgiveness at my mother’s bedside
Down the river a nugget of gold
These dreams I chase now unfold
A dozen canvasses sold
Left behind in the darkness and cold
Coming up for air during the flood
Empty my veins of my warm blood
A can of coke and the midnight horse stud
My bible falls to the floor with the deepest thud
Just ate last night’s meal
I’ve tried my best to heal
Make my greatest appeal
Lean in closer for the whispered reveal
Something is askew
So many times
I wished a rescue
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.11.15.10.04.05@130BklynNYC
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