David Harth 1999-06-15 David Harth 1999-06-15

Circles

If you happen to bump into me tomorrow

Or see me

You’ll notice something new

Something different

Great big red rings

Circles

Circles around my neck

Around my wrists

Circles from my knife

Traveling around my wrists

Around and around

Cutting and slicing open the skin

Making it warm red

And irritated

The same around my entire neck

A complete circle around

99.06.15.01:49:26 @ 296 NYC

David Harth 1999-06-10 David Harth 1999-06-10

Medium

Not quite large

But bigger than small

Not happy

Nor sad

Just about on the line

Or even

On the line

She thought he knew

He only saw a thin line

He balanced

And waited to cross

He thought she knew

She was medium

Sized perfect

Waiting for something

Medium

Like between a devil and a dove

Mint chocolate chip ice cream

Dog walking bird chirping

Silent waves

Medium

Waiting of the time spent

Recalled

Like an opera singer

In the musical devotion

Have a bottle of wine

Medium

Put Bob Marley on

And relax in a bath

Candles burn

Chill

Be medium

But be beyond

Medium

California dressing

Undress

Bermuda shorts

Miami screams

Medium

Reaching upwards

Bending and curving

Hear the calling

Medium

Howling at the wind

Or just the full moon

Picture snapped

Etched in my head

Medium

Don’t fear

Just go medium

Medium shade

Medium drive

Medium pulse

Medium rocket

Medium honey

Medium sheet

Medium paint brush

Medium color

Medium whiteness

Medium

99.06.10.14:29:57@1515nyc

David Harth 1999-06-07 David Harth 1999-06-07

Sunday

I was with my family and friends at dinner

When I looked down upon each of my wrists

And had gaping holes in them

On the underside of the arm

My arteries were open

With black holes like dark shark eyes

And blood was spurting out

And dripping beyond

I look over the white linen table cloth

And it’s soaked with my rich red blood

I feel wet coldness on my shoulders

As old blood from the ceiling sprays upon me

I awkwardly look at my family and friends for help

Only to find they have no faces

But traces of dust shadows

I arise with my palms at my side

I look lost and had panic eyes in my skull

I step outside to my red earth haunting

And the sky is dark

And the stars are pelting down to the land

Like fireballs from hell

Dark black clouds rolling

And brought deep thunder

A blood red lightning that came up from the land

Creating cracks of flowing red rivers

And leeches and parasites unearthed

With swollen glands and venous eyes

I died in my ache

As I became engulfed —

99.06.06.12:25:00@FLT#1750

99.06.07.00:25:10@296NYC

David Harth 1999-06-01 David Harth 1999-06-01

Turning Insides

I love it

And I hate it

When things are in the flow

Like Yin & Yang

Do you know what I mean?

The other day, I was talking to a friend

About the full moon

The next night I look up, and the next, and just yesterday too,

The moon is full

In glory

The other day, I wrote a poem

And referred to Lord Of The Flies

And what do you know

Just the other day after that,

On the television I see

Lord Of The Flies

The other day, I listened to a song

I haven’t heard it in years

And then

I’m sitting in the diner to eat

And what do I hear?

That song

The other day, I was driving

Down along the Hudson

I wish I would hear this one song

Or at least a song from this band I know

And you know what happened?

The song I was thinking of

By the band I wanted

Just played on the radio

As I drove along

The other day, I admitted to myself

That I’m quite attracted to those New York City women

Who wear those pointed cow boy hats

It’s such a turn-on

It drives me crazy

Delicious

99.06.01.12:53:49 @ 296 w/PIP&59@287

David Harth 1999-06-01 David Harth 1999-06-01

Selfish Learning

Velvet Elvis hangs on the mango wall

The elderly couple walk in from early-bird

and the dog races

Last week it thunder rained

This week all sunshine

She used dry chalk for make up

And rotated Q-tips in her waxy ears until they bled

She brushed fake her teeth clean

until the gums became a ravishing red and sore with blood

At night she cried in her death sleep and

choked on her salt tears

Her husband wakes up

and cleans her ass full of waste and debris

from the restless night

He has a fag in the dawn light

looking at his love

She raises herself upwards

giving birth once more

to a hairless creature of blind faith and albino devotion

It stinks of raw fish in the smoldering hot room

The paint chips and falls

And the vinyl player dances

Scum baby, Scum baby

The baby delivers his blue eyes

And the theatre audience looks on

The husband wishes he had a fuck

And sweet Jane gives good head

After her bladder gives new

She gets up on her all fours

Wham Bam Thank you Ma’am husband hops on board

And whales the fragile chalked woman

From behind

way up in the ass

And the day starts once more

Married for only two years

On the west coast of Florida

They keep making children with no eyes and

Velcro hair

Both previous spouses

died in horrible car accidents or natural causes

The doctor came today and tied up the husband

really good

The doctor fucked his wife today

And now the husband knows candle pain

The children scatter on the household floor

imitate their dying parents

by playing house and doctor

with toys from the closet and cupboard

The doctor leaves

untying the husband

leaving him to clean up the mess on his wife’s

old sagging tits

And sending the bill in the mail

The aging couple repeat yesterday’s day

and when they lay to sleep

once again

They pray that they will be the first one to die

so, they will not once more be in mourning

99.05.21.21:08:44 @ 1515/296 New York City

99.05.28.19:02:32 @ 1515/296 New York City

99.06.01.02:34:24 @ 1515/296 New York City

David Harth 1999-05-25 David Harth 1999-05-25

54 look-a-likes (Version #1)

I saw a man that looked like Greg

I saw a woman that looked like Tiffani

I saw a man that looked like Jon

I saw a woman that looked like Jill

I saw a man that looked like Mike

I saw a woman that looked like Nina

I saw a man that looked like Scott

I saw a woman that looked like Mimi

I saw a man that looked like James

I saw a woman that looked like Carol

I saw a man that looked like Travis

I saw a woman that looked like Maggie

I saw a man that looked like Thomas

I saw a woman that looked like Ruby

I saw a man that looked like Dave

I saw a woman that looked like Doris

I saw a man that looked like Chris

I saw a woman that looked like Diane

I saw a man that looked like Marshall

I saw a woman that looked like Debra

I saw a man that looked like Opa

I saw a woman that looked like Carrie

I saw a man that looked like Matt

I saw a woman that looked like Constance

I saw a man that looked like Paul

I saw a woman that looked like Megan

I saw a man that looked like Jim

I saw a woman that looked like Nancy

I saw a man that looked like Jeff

I saw a woman that looked like Robin

I saw a man that looked like David

I saw a woman that looked like Jennie

I saw a man that looked like Me

I saw a woman that looked like Kathleen

I saw a man that looked like Peter

I saw a woman that looked like Erin

I saw a man that looked like Richard

I saw a woman that looked like Susan

I saw a man that looked like Jack

I saw a woman that looked like Claudia

I saw a man that looked like Ben

I saw a woman that looked like Jen

I saw a man that looked like Henry

I saw a woman that looked like Mandy

I saw a man that looked like Tim

I saw a woman that looked like Babette

I saw a man that looked like Lance

I saw a woman that looked like Amanda

I saw a man that looked like Charley

I saw a woman that looked like Sarah

I saw a man that looked like Kai

I saw a woman that looked like Marlene

I saw a man that looked like Patrick

I saw a woman that looked like Stacey

99.05.25.4:03:02 @ 1515 nyc

David Harth 1999-05-21 David Harth 1999-05-21

Midnight

Midnight we hear their laughter

Noon we remember their cries

And taste their foreign tears

Late afternoon I smelt her in the air

Waves coming over me, pulsating perfume

And taste my youth of trapped dreams

Late June the end is near

Beginning July, they all forget and I crawl

August I’m in heat

September rain comes the fall

Man slipping off a roof’s edge

As the English sip their tea

October I recall

November I don’t thank you for killing my natives

December we get drunk and wonder

Go on to the next promising year

And depression sets on those days

Of holiday wonder we die

Midnight we hear their laughter

Noon we remember their cries

And taste their foreign tears

Beginning years of January, we stand the bitter cold

February we get lost in love of hallmark and the red zone

Which is not my erogenous zone

March we come out and pop and die under sunshine

April glitz and maple gritz

May suck me up

And become an interviewee

Shout

99.05.21.16:37:44 @ 1515 nyc

David Harth 1999-05-21 David Harth 1999-05-21

Without You

I saw the thorn twist in your side

And I was so revolted that there was a thorn in your thigh

I just had to lean over

And relieve myself of this morning’s breakfast

And I realized

I can live without you

And I can’t live with you

How can I go on with you if you have a damn thorn in your thigh?

Why don’t you go to the dermatologist and have that removed?

You gave yourself away and you still expect me to be with you?

That’s insane.

And then on top of that and your thorn in your thigh

You tied my hands up like a silly S&M director

I couldn’t win

You always lost

It was kind of like a tie, like my hands.

You thorny whore!

Go back for some more!

99.05.21.16:29:34@1515NYC

harth, being silly

David Harth 1999-05-20 David Harth 1999-05-20

Stolen Cream

Before the rush came. Before the Christie’s men in black escorted the collectors, the rich, the famous, the infamous, and the wasted, with umbrellas from the extended cars on the rainy street to the covered building of thousands, I ran. I swiftly ran inside, all dressed in artists attire; black pants, black shirt, black shoes, black ski mask, as fast as I could, I ran. Swiftly with a gentle crowbar in black-gloved hand, I ran to the center. There in the glass case at waist height was the magnificently lit art. Flesh toned rubber and silk blues and yellows with laser guided video for my home entertainment system. With a flash and a crack I smashed the thin, yet elegant, glass covering. No one in sight, not a soul hears the breakage, the symbols, I smash. With my huge powerful downward motion, one swoosh of angry art and emotion. The glass broken, not a cut, not a curve, not a cream. I leave the flesh and satin and silk and flowers alone. Today I just grab the disc. The secret code, the pleasure dome, and provide you all with video cameras on this advertising day! As swiftly as I ran in, I run out. With laserdisc under my arm and crowbar swinging overhead, like a wild boar from Lord Of The Flies, or a huge black King-Kong, I run. Straight pass the umbrella sculptures waiting to come alive, I run into the darkness to bootleg my way to stardom, to surrender to the darkness, to deface Picasso and become an art thief of my own obsession.

99.05.20.04:49:44 @ 296 New York City

David Harth 1999-05-18 David Harth 1999-05-18

Turnstile

It’s my style

Feel the cologne rubbing on my thigh

New wave hair-dos

I wanna be traveling at speed

Revolving

Passing through, going to the underground

Subway passageway

Delicious

Turnstile

Turnstyle

It’s not my way of life

But I’m committed with my hard work

And saving attitude

Time and Time and Time

Turnstile

To everything, Turn, Turn, Turn

Around

Rotate

Spin-Dry

Twister

Left foot my bed

Turnstile

1635-45

Numbered

Educated

Taught

Experienced

Made me deliver for you

The orange man knows

Turnstile

Number six downtown

Mr. Noisy

Mr. Tonight

Ms. Sexy

Ms. Mix

Turnstile

Dollar fifty

I’ll write a letter

My time is worth more than three minutes

Of an eighteen-minute session

Because I’ve just been used

Turnstile

Turn-around

Brush around

Blush

I blush

See the big vein pop in my forehead

Foreskin

Foresee

For come

Forth

Faith

Filth

God

Turnstile

It’s my swagger

A jack-o-lantern

A red ruby lipstick

Purple added

Strawberry

Red down there

Here

Turnstile

Imprinted

Stainless steal

Took and stole

Drum beat

Indians

And passion

Turnstile

On forever

Turning

Playing

Traveling

Walking-thru

Disease

Trapped

Turnstile

Bent

Forward

Death to the maids

The cross-dresser vacuum cleaners

Turnstile

I’m bleeding at my side

I took the gun from your bathroom

And now I hold it in front of your face

We hear sirens in the background

I drop to my knees

But No

I’m better than you

With a gun pointed at you

You taught me well

But I’m not you

99.05.18:04:12:49@296NYC

David Harth 1999-05-18 David Harth 1999-05-18

He is Witnessitis

He painted his fingers

He will wait for the sheep to come to him

He likes the smell of fresh baked bread

He wishes to dine with her at that silver place

He rides a bike

He conquers cities

He owns a gun that he does not wish to use

He dies every day

He is in heat

He strays from the junkies and thieves

He hears people tell him that he is a manipulator

He walks the streets full of subconscious persons

He is not prestige enough

He must take photographs

He is gay, he is an artist, he writes poetry, he must be gay

He lasts with a golden flower

He paid his dues

He has no best friend

He drives a Porsche

He develops his own drugs

He is an angel

He has curiosity that kills him on corners

He has not been mugged

He crosses the street in front of speeding cars

He cleans up his city

He is full of noise and quietness

He will beat the living shit out of you if you fuck up

He would die for a friend or any other being

He loves to read

He eats language for breakfast

He was the one that started the fire

He can take the blame

He smelt death

He bashed his head on four nails on a locked door to say peace nightly

He danced to the punk scene for inspiration

He has a heavy lord

He melts like burnt buffalo

He is new year’s special

He laughed at serious love

He created a symphony with blood and semen

He was taught

He left suddenly and unexpectedly

He never gave the tape to each one

He chained her down

He floated

He became your memory

He carved the orange tree

He thought of a new ism in his itis

He is an important witness

99.05.18:02:09:49@296NYC

David Harth 1999-05-13 David Harth 1999-05-13

Drifters

I hate the drifters

That come from city to city

Hole to hole

They just come here to steal, absorb and conquer

They dig their trenches

And bury us in our flooded redness

Beat

And felt up like a hell-hole

Of under represented

Not respected twenty-eights

Drifters

Those fuckers

The nerve of them

Giving me unordered spinal-taps

Making me have oral condensation

Listening to star

They come and go

Travel on

But I don’t need them

Or you

Because you abused

You used

You are a drifter

I hate those drifters

In and out they come

They never stay a while

For a cup of English tea

They take away our teddy bears

No try-ons, just thieves

Everyone is like a walking sarcophagus

Filled with freshly read newspapers

They borrow and burrow deep down inside

They don’t get to know

The take and never give

Those drifters

The just spend your money

And waste your time for some delight

And leave out the back door

With your warm towel

Damn drifters.

99.05.10.02:05:04 @ 296

99.05.11.12:17:28 @ 296

99.05.13.13:32:25 @ 1515

David Harth 1999-05-10 David Harth 1999-05-10

PUNK

tough

it’s in, it’s out

a twist of lime

a fruit drink inside

a wonder bread

a tornado head

a cold rain

a pouring drain

it’s time to go

inside-out

down and about

red, orange, green and blue

fly-like-colors

howling wind

fly-like-colors

no dust in my teeth

bite my lip

i bite my lip

take you up

towers of lust

desire a must

on top of that temple

steps to the holy one

never take one

a cherry tree

drop yours tonight

love birds in sight

wanted and believed

greys between

living colors

no waisted horrors

smart time

to my chime

it’s a wanted one

a soul of two

a connected pair

its time little frog

webbed feet

duck your head

under counter

it’s time to be a lemon

a grateful sin

a dead pig

drowning meat

no vegetables in the heat

i am in need

for that lovey speed

smoke it up

junk it up

punk it up

fill me up

i am in need

for that lovey speed

deal me a drug

flow me up inside

cover me in white

all over; i wont bite

colors;

they fly like jets

red, white, & blue

skies in russia

skies in america

japan & zealand

guatemala & fruit lands

they fight like army men

warriors of hell

painted faces; portraits of heroes

it’s a shoot

captain, a cigar

rip down the road

a drag mobile

wind turning

dog barking

zoom in

zoom out

it’s about that time

out - and - about

i am in need

for a cold rain

and a pouring drain

it’s time to go

inside-out

down and about

round

beach ball play

womyn in suits

men in sun-tan

palm beach springs

and new orleans

lima, I sinka your marina

beauty, no queen, ill split your spline

no more

time to go

split out

colors about

explode

i need some

big bang

fighter plane

above and beyond

no place to go

run in

run out

zoom about

it’s time to become a monument

97.07.07.23:34:11 @ 31 NYC

99.05.07.16:55:03 @ 1515 NYC

99.05.10.03:37:35 @ 296 NYC

David Harth 1999-05-10 David Harth 1999-05-10

Escape

Taste the divine tears

Feel the thorns that grow inside

Sink your toes into the sand

Relax with lemonade as the sun sets on the bay

Play hide-and-seek with me

Frolic on the beach and between the palms

Jingle in the nude and be jolly in the moonlight

And the cascading shadows over the night ocean

Look at yourself in the mirror

Standing and looking and passionate

Do something different

Runaway and escape

Stay in your stillness

I’m painting your portrait

On my canvas and embracing your image

In my mind of lust

Kissing your navel

The ocean breeze travels across our bodies

Tracing your curves with a purple rose

To escape in the ocean of beauty

99.05.07.16:36:54 @ nyc usa (1515)

99.05.10.01:20:46 @ nyc usa (296)

David Harth 1999-05-07 David Harth 1999-05-07

I’m laughing at you

As the clock ticks away

Timing going by

Traveling through the space that we bend

And soap up the experience

I’m laughing at you

Because you are blind

And dance alone on the parquet floor

Scented like a purple rose of earthly delight

I’m laughing at you

When the children play on the rusty swing set

On the park bench I wait

And you only pretend in the rain showers

I’m laughing at you

As you giggle in your sleep

And wake up to the sunrise of yesterday

And wonder if he had lied and if I was right

99.05.07.16:42:19@1515

David Harth 1999-05-06 David Harth 1999-05-06

Tuesday & Wednesday

The sun sets and rises with you everyday

Your beauty is burnt into my memory bank

The bank that gets robbed but you are in the safe

Locked in forever

On 8th avenue way, all the men check me out

Look me up and down

Check out my package and cute face

I can get any one of them

Where are the women that ache my heart?

Where do they hide?

When do they want to ‘pick me up?’

Which avenue do they walk on?

Washington Square park is filled with participants

Useful ones that could have confronted camera artists

And celebrity stars I find on thirty four television stations

Including my nude self in central park

Hey, you, yes you -

Pretty one...

If I tell you to meet me in the park

Where the marble arch is

High noon on my grandmothers sabbath

Would you meet me there?

My heart is knotted

Tied and bolted

To platters passed around from blonde to brunette to red to black

From blue eyes to brown eyes to green eyes

and the grey mystery of my own

I’m coming to New York City

I was born here, there

Post office customers

I’m just a believer with bad credit

Certainty is now still in the concept of a book

That I will never read

So, I guess I don’t know the rules

Maybe you’ll teach, maybe you wont

Maybe I’ll just die in a rocking chair

It’s time to go

Thirst to produce has engulfed my mind

I’ll be inspired by you

Because until I meet you

I won’t be disappointed

Or shot down

Or in an orgasm of truth of my own disbelief

99.05.05.22:34:00 @ 296 NYC

99.05.06.03:04:23 @ 296 NYC

David Harth 1999-05-04 David Harth 1999-05-04

The Gallery/The Artist

A gallery is there so a tree can get cut down to be made into pulp to be made into newspaper so a journalist can write a column on the gallery white-walled opening in the paper so mothers and fathers can read about the naked wine-drunk opening and so the artists can show work on the clean floor and eat dead birds and dish out secret service blow jobs for an ongoing dispute and so someone developed ink to print on and so children can be offended and old grandma will turn over in her grave and mothers won’t support and people get jealous and art wars raid your mind and so people can buy art to appreciate and or possibly just for the hell of it to make a buck we don’t know we only represent be ourselves do the art be the art conflict the art and so tourists have a place to go and view and so culture can see what we think and where we are going and what we will do in trench coats and postage stamps that say Kill All Artists while cardboard thieves line the streets of Broadway to Tampa tribune miles away and the gallery is there for us to meet greet and massage our lonesome feet and shave ourselves clean of the beauty we once knew and to listen to an arch of McDonalds frenzy and creme filled donuts and smokers cars and blue eyes and money and models and chicas and cock fights and luxury cars and hostess cupcakes or airline stewardesses and mighty mighty let’s go play baseball and hit and hit and hit pull the revolver up the bunny rabbit and the gallery didn’t notice those who didn’t laugh but the gallery is there for the artist for the self to be safe to feel like a groovy a musician a poet and parent a human a gatherer a co- you never know or do we with just make a simple phone call the gallery pays bills makes bills is a bill is a bitch is a boredom is a bore is a whore is a heap is deep is dough is divine is wrong is write is right and real and now and here to stay because we chose to go in to be artists to do what we do best and we took an oath to our heart to be all we can be without the army but in our brain our heart we are ourselves and we are artists.

We are artists.

99.05.04.20:03:48 @ 1515 NYC

David Harth 1999-04-28 David Harth 1999-04-28

Red Beauty

Rolling thunder passes

Great land of the white one

Pass the magic corn of the earth

To the west of red beauty

Beneath glorious sky

To moon’s daughter

Bleeding hawk intertwines

Among the riching forest

Deep birch, sweet cedar and sturdy oak

Buffalo are roaming to the mighty rivers now

For your beauty I take

And eat your poison and swallow my fire of pride

Share my sacred pipe with your painted face

In these brave summers of thicketed visions

And tongues of stirring ashes

I’ve lost my eagle soaring guide

With pressed hands and clenched fists

My wounded heart pounds as the mountain speaks

With leaves of golden amber

And wild pure water flowing

Chanting of your beauty in passages

Come dance with me in the falling rain

Rain with me

Down promising trails of flames

Singing swallows can be heard

Behind my brothers and sisters

As dawn comes over great brown bear

Your beauty like nothing of this earth

Beating the dirt back to its core

Following the blooming flowers to your footprints

The beauty you shine with

Makes the growing sun and stars fight to reflect upon you

As I imagine my blue eyes upon your breast

The desert becomes hotter as you raise

The holy flames on the land

And take the rainy season to flood lands

Powerful sun beams beat off your beauty

Into the mighty night sky

Showing the overhead night birds a wonder sight

Your beauty shakes the tremendous strong earth

Quite beyond your structure of lust

I sink in the sand to be with you

As your beauty burns and dances like fire

In the minds of myself and my fathers before me

I honor you and give you earth gifts

Silent cuts on palms remind me

The delicate lines of your beauty eyes

Making the smokey signals of my desire

Your beauty quietly escapes the red land

Mounts on top of great blue blankets

And becomes one without me in the darkness

99.04.28.2:24:31@Earth

David Harth 1999-04-23 David Harth 1999-04-23

Mixed Media Killer

Whites killing blacks

Blacks killing whites

Liposuction fat suckas

Believing in god to rescue

Ain’t no Popeye

gonna save our batch

Think I’ll light a match

Littleton snow falling

Wet rain flower graves

Students balling

Publicity suicide stunt

Making bucks for NBC, CBS, ABC and CNN

Just 2 Shot men

Bomb the black kid

Blaming Manson

Wish I hid

Violence in Kosovo

Violence in Colorado

I’d much rather get lost

In the violence in my own head

Trench coat Mafia

Remembrance of Matthew Sheppard I knew

Psychology Today

Preventing your bloody hue

Interviewing the grieving

For America’s rating

The Boss was born here one evening

John’s little pink houses debating

Sawed-off shot guns

Bleeding bones

Crying tears

Swat teams

Children killing children

Imagine my man

in the mirror

Rebel revolutions

Civil revolutions

Student revolutions

Gothic revolutions

Building wars

Destroying guns

No one’s safe

Laughing killers

Ooooooo...Black clothing

Come to New York City

I’ll show you your black

& hate

& god on riverside

You know?

Silent images = $

Silence = death

99.04.23.4:46:17@Earth

David Harth 1999-04-13 David Harth 1999-04-13

One Week

On Sunday

I take you to the Metropolitan Museum of Art

We see van Gogh, Degas, and Turner

We get lost together in their masterpieces

Of strokes, dances and light

We surround ourselves in the art around us

To create our own

We explore each room while re-inventing ourselves

On Monday

After a candle-lit dinner

I take you to the Empire State Building

Right to the tippy-top

To view the world

Our New York City

That we conquered together

With shared secrets and passion

On the top in an embrace

We kiss to the stars above and the midnight lights below

On Tuesday

After the wine down your back

I cuddle you in my arms

As we shower together

Feeling silky wet

With suds pouring down

I wash the slippery inches of your body

From butt to thigh to breast to ear

On Wednesday

We skip work

To where the sun shines daily

And birds fly high

Where flowers bloom beneath

Central park is where we escape today

Frolic in the sun on the meadow

Being with you and exploring

Laying upon your lap, you in mine

Together we relax and wonder

On Thursday

The evening is ours

This night is full of sweetness

From the kisses on your lips to your navel

I lick the honey from your mouth and stomach

To strawberries of today

Following your precious eyes

I take the strawberry to every corner of your body

And nibble nibble tonight

On Friday

The warm day brought us to a gathering tight close

With ice in my hand

I glide down your body through your soul

Upon your every pore

From foot upwards on your leg and inner thigh

Above your pubic mound to your strong navel

Upward glance

Upon your breasts and now stiff nipples

Until the ice reaches your neck

The coldness giving you goosebumps all over

To your lips

Ice and now I kiss

And run my fingers through your hair

And down your back

On Saturday

Quiet with the actions

Too many to exist in our time

Ran around here and there

Shared an ice tea on the avenue

Remembering last night and the night before

Everlasting

I let the water fill up the tub

For you

I sprinkle flowers on the water’s edge and surface

Roses, daisies, tulips, sunflowers, carnations, daffodils, irises, lilies

And leaves of green

Cover your warm bath water

And now you can beautify the world

And take a hot bath in flowers

While I wash your back and your hair

And burn candles on the porcelain surroundings

Tonight

99.04.10.03:27:38 @ 296 NYC

99.04.13.01:32:33 @ 296 NYC