666

Ain’t no rats

And ain’t no significance.

Ain’t no shade

And ain’t no aunt of mine.

Ain’t no pole dancer

And ain’t no desk worker.

Ain’t no pollution filler

And ain’t no belly tap tipper.

This ain’t no number of mine

This ain’t no number of mine

A twisted fate

And tree roots with a lock hold on your ankles

A leftover date

And dark clouds rolling in over head

A dead mate

And streaks of fire falling from the sky

A breeder of hate

It’s not my fault, but my dear,

You are too late.

This ain’t no number of mine

This ain’t no number of mine

Ain’t no obituary.

And ain’t no surprise.

Ain’t no dinner maze.

And ain’t no donation.

Ain’t no signature

And ain’t no admiration.

Ain’t no scent of intercourse

And ain’t no cherry pie.

This ain’t no number of mine

This ain’t no number of mine

© 2006 David Greg Harth

06.06.06.06:06:06@296NYC

June

I can’t help but wonder

         What’s eating at you

         Gnawing at your insides

Has my heart opened to you

         Like no other woman before

         The eyes of a pond

Why won’t I be bound

         Committed to love

         It’s not what my heart can contemplate

Your brown sky

         Looking down upon me

         Trace your thigh with a blade of grass

Native tongues

         What we could share

         Is the quad of possibility

But I am one

         and one I shall remain.

© 2006 David Greg Harth

06.05.28.12:00:00@PortAuthorityBusTerminalNYC

Squids, Snails, and Scorpions

Three of you

One I pretended

One I pursued

One I punished

Slippery

Slinky

Sultry

But each of you,

Unique as you are

Can only go thus far

In a sphincter undone.

Undone.

© 2006 David Greg Harth

06.05.25.16:03:38@205HudsonNYC

You Are Dying

Before my eyes you fade

Your bathroom floor,

         sticky from past urine

         a stench

Shit

         stains your sheets

         and underpants

Diaper worn

You forget

         (as do I)

How could someone

         So giving

         So loving

         So marvelous

End in such sorrow and waste?

Would it be wrong

         to assist a man

         who wishes to die?

Would it be wrong

         to hand you a revolver—

         your lasting wish?

© 2006 David Greg Harth

06.05.07.16:35:00@2550WebbBronx

Sarah and The Last Letter Of The Alphabet

Sarah is beautiful

and beautiful is Sarah.

© 2006 David Greg Harth

06.05.02.18:14:00@66W12NYC

Bellevue

I’m going to Bellevue.

I’m headed towards Bellevue.

To be in Bellevue.

And in Bellevue I’ll be.

Because I’ll be in Bellevue.

And Bellevue I’ll be.

It’s in Bellevue

That’s where I’m headed too.

Bellevue is my destination.

To be inside.

The Bellevue nation.

© 2006 David Greg Harth

06.04.10.11:03:51@205HudsonNYC

said

said

Got a gun

Backed by a garden tool

said

Lost a son

With eyes of blue

said

Greeted by autumn

Synagogue leaves

said

I got ‘em

Down on his knees

said

Her love was lost

She struck a pose

said

He birthed at no cost

All the dead arose

said

Lived in Bethlehem

Where snakes spoke

said

Angels will condemn

Grown from bottomless smoke

said

Palms are bloody

Execute my last right

said

Lovers so needy

It is the word I now write

said

The end is near

Locusts from fire free

said

For you, I tear

The death of me

© 2006 David Greg Harth

06.04.07.18:50:00@66W12StNYC

06.04.09.16:30:56@296NYC

Love (Version #20)

Over 2 dozen years.

I never learned about love.

Nothing.

I witnessed it several times,

from a distance,

among friends and family.

I never experienced Love.

I never could define Love.

I have always fantasized about Love.

The term, the feeling, the concept; all so very abstract.

It wasn’t until recently, that I was able to start grasping the concept.

Because of you, I am beginning to understand.

The great grand concept of Love.

I can’t define it, but you certainly have enlightened me.

You taught me so much, about the feelings involved.

The tenderness, the warmth, the desire, the courage,

the immense connection, the pride, the protection.

The devotion, the dedication, the kindness,

the gazes, the playfulness, the bond stronger than diamond.

I never thought I would understand it, even though I always desired too.

But, finally, I have begun.

I thank you for teaching me so much, in such a short amount of time.

You’ve only had about 17 months on earth, but, if it wasn’t for you,

my life would still be blind to the possibility of Love.

I now know about the outer tip of the concept of what Love is.

From this knowledge, I hope to discover it,

in the places and people, I wish to share it with.

© 2006 David Greg Harth

03.08.24.20:32:29@296NYC

06.04.05.22:44:19@296NYC

Six Figures On Fixing What Can’t Be Fixed

So much for loving you.

I’m stuck and I can’t get out.

So, what do you do?

You Vaseline my cock,

and now,

I’m short a dime.

Hungry for more.

I’ve got nothing,

but black eyes.

Black eyes.

© 2006 David Greg Harth

06.03.02.15:24:33@205HudsonNYC

Twelve

Stop feeding me

This sugar solution

Stop at the 12th floor window

My hands are on the door

But you don't let me freshen up

I watch you pull the sheets over your body

I see you do the Thorazine shuffle

But you –

            you are still silent

Because if you were to speak

A loud roar

And you'd wake up from your wet dream

Thinking it was Autumn

And Autumn is dead now

Autumn is dead.

© 2006 David Greg Harth

2006.04.02.04:06:00 @296NYC

You Loved Me Too Much

After we spoke, I took the long walk west.

I jumped into the Hudson.

© 2006 David Greg Harth

06.03.31.04:00:00@296NYC

Ni3

I loved her like I never loved a woman before.

Her green eyes. Her full lips. Her soft skin.

So much perfection. Even her song. Her humming.

She was like the storybook story.

Driven by the radiating light of beauty.

Whispers were exchanged. We made love together.

My heart never ached. My heart never opened.

Yet still, something was eating at us inside.

It was only abandonment she left me with.

Now she is gone and I have nothing.

Eternal search for no more religions.

Except that of myself, and you, my love whom I adore.

She now resides in the land of abundant trees.

Penetrating my mind on the late evening hour.

Without warning she enters like a drifting ghost.

It wasn’t until I met her that my beliefs started to exist.

Now she is long gone dead.

Something still resides, my heart yet filled.

I was swallowed and lost in the keys she left.

Gone without a trace, not even a word spoken or written.

The fire that once engulfed us, burnt out like a silent mute.

The moon has risen in the skyline many nights since.

Nuzzled in the nest I provided; she provoked my yearning.

Now is the time she called out my name.

First, not last.

© 2006 David Greg Harth

06.03.31.03:24:26@296NYC

Sin

Was it a sin

That I walked the length of the brook to see your blue eyes?

Was it a sin

That I made love with you beneath the Sycamore?

Was it a sin

The way you made me melt into a defenseless child?

Was it a sin

The way you left my heart with no companion to love?

Was it a sin

That you spoke without listening?

Was it a sin

That you closed the door before it was even ajar?

© 2006 David Greg Harth

06.03.29.17:44:00@296NYC

Know Their Eyes

Forget about their occupation

Forget where they live

Forget the length of their commute

Forget their family background

Forget when their last relationship was

Forget why they responded

Forget their phone number

Forget to open the door

Forget it all

But never forget

The color of their eyes

© 2006 David Greg Harth

06.03.27.14:35:51@205HudsonNYC

Just Doing Rebecca

You can gaze,

You can take my portrait,

In Goldin’s light.

Bring me home to your waters,

We’ll throw tea overboard,

And make for the tunnel.

Shed your shoes,

Allow me to take you,

And maybe even Matthew will watch us.

© 2006 David Greg Harth

06.03.25.03:43:21@29NYC

America (Version #2)

Eat Fresh

Have It Your Way

We’re Always Cooking

Do What Tastes Right

Think Outside The Bun

I’m Lovin’ It

What You Crave

America’s Drive-In

America’s Best Dressed Sandwich

Chicken Capital USA

Chicken On The Grill

Now That Your Tastes Have Grown Up!

Real Food. Real Choices.

© 2006 David Greg Harth

06.03.21.02:01:05@296NYC

Midnight Brooklyn

Ebony,

Your architectural legs

Wrapped around my waist

Lights scattering in the room

The rumble is heard

Announcements made

It’s time to go

Ride on my back

Exclaimed, he did

Just feeling a bit,

Like going down on you -

It was something you said

Somehow you made me curl

And then he spoke

Then with the beat of a different drum

It was the three of us

In the meadow alone

No longer of heights

He mailed the signed letter

And together

Three of us made love

Without you there.

© 2006 David Greg Harth

06.03.17.03:28:40@296NYC

Elysium (Version #2)

Knowing that he,

Now disrobed from his wreaths of reign,

Set free from his constant pain.

Knowing that he,

With an unopened heart he lay,

Among snakes he now drowns in clay.

Knowing that he,

Untouched by the vibrant voices of the siren’s calls,

Survived the stays down long twelfth floor halls.

Knowing that he,

Conqueror of the midland’s fields of wheat,

Never a life so undone and so discrete.

Knowing that he,

Delivery agent of the compass made of gold,

Still his story has yet to unfold.

Knowing that he,

With flesh untouched by virgin’s hands,

Until the very end he had plans.

Knowing that he,

Never sung the choir’s song,

He knew on earth he did not belong.

Knowing that he,

Accomplished the greatest master piece,

Truly they know he is without cease.

Knowing that he,

Inside the grand depth deep.

Forever now he will sleep.

© 2006 David Greg Harth

06.03.09.07:42:44@296NYC

Elysium

They assembled—

Knowing that he,

Now disrobed from his wreaths of reign,

Set free from his constant pain.

Knowing that he,

With an unopened heart he lay,

Among snakes he now drowns in clay.

Knowing that he,

Untouched by the vibrant voices of the siren’s calls,

Survived the stays down long twelfth floor halls.

Knowing that he,

Conqueror of the midland’s fields of wheat,

Never a life so undone and so discrete.

Knowing that he,

Delivery agent of the compass made of gold,

Still his story has yet to unfold.

Knowing that he,

With flesh untouched by virgin’s hands,

Until the very end he had plans.

Knowing that he,

Never sung the choir’s song,

He knew on earth he did not belong.

Knowing that he,

Accomplished the greatest master piece,

Truly they know he is without cease.

Knowing that he,

Inside the grand depth deep.

Forever now he will sleep.

However,

The gatherers were mistaken.

The great one was indeed in love,

In love with the she.

And her name is —

© 2006 David Greg Harth

06.03.09.07:41:07@296NYC

No Longer

Existing is not something I can do anymore.

There is nothing I could have done.

I apologize for my untimely death.

Growing weak of the daily routine.

It made me hateful of life.

I ached for multiple rounds of ammunition.

To be bludgeoned by alienating amputation devices.

And hit by city buses which carried low-wage workers to their offices.

I am without a home and without a heart.

Standing here witnessing injustice is wrong.

I’d only bleed indefinitely if I stayed one more day.

So, the last day has come.

Tomorrow once again

Wishing for a tidal wave of thorns to penetrate my heart.

© 2006 David Greg Harth

06.03.07.13:26:00@205HudsonNYC