Trees

As the end of the year nears

I walk these concrete sidewalks of my city

Evergreen soldiers stand tall 

Like majestic canopies

That line bodega’s boundaries

The scent of spruce and pine and fir

Always remind me of you

How we’d walk hand in hand

Through the East Village grid

I have such vivid memories

Of being in love with you

But now that you’ve been gone for years

There is nothing I can do

But visit your grave

And never hold your hand again

© 2014 David Greg Harth

14.12.22.24:12:02@130BklynNYC

7th 8th 7th 8th

In my experience

The earth usually rotates on its axis

Like a pattern found in nature

Repeating forever in it's tiny little space

In this vast emptiness

This is the beginning of a love poem

In the past I've written love poems

Or attempted to do so

You see, I'm mainly a visual artist

Or, an artist that has been creating experiences

As of recent

An artist who socially engages

Who likes to involve his audience

But, there are times, which I write poetry

I think I'm pretty good

But I can get a shit load better

This is a love poem

It's a love poem

Because, well, I'm in love again

And at the start, this is what happens

I get crazy

And then I'll make a mistake

And like the wind that carried her here

She'll be gone once again

© 2014 David Greg Harth

14.10.31.01:06:50@130BklynNYC

Wasn’t Told

I didn’t get the telegram

And after the last look I gave

When I was on top of the hill

About to go over

And never return

I caught your last glance

But it was too late

Buried in a box

My fate is sealed

Along with everything 

That was me

To you

Because I loved you

But you loved me too late

Now

I am dead

I am dead

© 2014 David Greg Harth

14.10.27.21:45:03@130BklynNYC

Ability (Version #2)

We were freshly out of school

A little over a year

And you headed back home

I dropped you off at the airport

You caught the evening flight out of JFK

I said goodbye to your baby browns

And kissed your rose lips

Nobody inspires me like you had

Nobody captivates me like you had

Nobody captures my heart like you had

There is no one on this earth

That encompassed what you were

To me

Your touch was sensory overload of the majestic sense

Your kiss sent an electric charge down my spine

Your voice was a symphony to my ears

Your kindness was legendary

Your warmth was generous

Your affection was eternal

Your love was boundless

Your courage was heroic

Your sympathy was epic

Your grace was poetic

I no longer have the ability to love

You took my ability to the bottom of the sea that day

My heart died with you

On Flight 111, September 2, 1998

© 2014 David Greg Harth

14.09.30.23:30:27@130BklynNYC

Hannah Has A Story For You

I was standing in line at the DMV

I stood next to a woman named Hannah

She had a story for me

Hannah told me tales of truth and fiction

Even read my palm and told me my fortune

She knew about my morning's benediction

Hannah said I'm an old soul but that I'd die young

Predicted my future so eloquently

She said my nuptial song has yet to be sung

So if you go to the Department of Motor Vehicles

Go find Hannah for your story

Just don't get too close, because she'll grab your testicles!

© 2014 David Greg Harth

14.09.09.09:53:49@130BklynNYC

Mustard Sunday

On Monday I fell in love with a woman

On Tuesday I waited for her to call me back

On Wednesday she called me back, we made plans for Thursday

On Thursday we had our date, we made love

On Friday she broke up with me

On Saturday I sat on the couch, heart broken

On Sunday, I had a hotdog with mustard. I never have mustard on hotdogs.

© 2014 David Greg Harth

14.09.07.21:35:45@130BklynNYC

Mr. Richmond, Ms. Wright, and Mr. O.

First, while bent over the government issued grey desk

Mr. Richmond took the handle of the government issued mop

And placed that wooden handle way up my ass. 

It was the first time I’ve ever had anything up my ass.

Even as I tried to give him an explanation

Of reasons of why he shouldn’t do this,

He just refused to listen.

I asked to speak to his supervisor,

To which he responded that he was the supervisor.

And he proceeded to shove that wooden handle up my ass

Splintering my anal sphincter along the way

Each time it went in further, I was in pain

More so with the thoughts about what it will be like to pull it out.

When I asked Mr. Richmond who was above him, he said, Ms. Wright

When Ms. Wright could not be found, he directed me to Mr. O.

Mr. O could not be found.

So, after he pulled out that government issued mop handle

Out of my bleeding ass

I attempted to sit down in the 145 person occupancy waiting room

Filled with cattle who don’t belong

But only because of me, the white man, they belong

And so, I sat. 

Uncomfortable. Bleeding.

Soiling the grey government issued chair.

Finally, 45 minutes later, Mr. Richmond announced my name

So, beyond the screaming babies and greasy food

I went behind the closed doors

To be under surveillance

And observed

Once more

Mr. Richmond introduced me to Ms. Wright and Mr. O.

It was a two for one

And so, exclaiming my innocence

To prevent automatic judgment

And crucifixion by monetary value

It was determined that I had good cause

So, the stuffed-like a turkey worker could go fuck herself

Yet still

I’m out of the system

Because I made a dime

And had my ass fucked

© 2014 David Greg Harth

14.09.06.11:58:00@130BklynNYC

Mr. Exit

They asked me to solve the unsolved

I am the last person to come into the situation

I solve the problems

For all

No matter what technique is required

No matter how much time is required

For I am a man of no death and no fear

I am the man that haunts your children's patterns of sleep

I am the man who follows you around dark corners

I solve problems

For each and every cheated lover

For each and every crooked politician

I am

Mr. Exit

© 2014 David Greg Harth

14.08.31.17:10:35@130BklynNYC

One More Morning

At 7 O’clock I woke up this morning

The windows were open 

Like most July 10ths in New York

The day was hot

I was restless but I woke up as I always do

Drank a full glass of water with my

80 mg of aspirin,

1400 mg of fish oil,

1200 mg of flax seed oil

And 20 mg of cetirizine hydrochloride

At 7 O’clock

Shortly after 7 O’clock

I took a shower like I do every day

The steam scattered around trying to escape

I always wash myself in the same order

Which, in brief, goes like this:

With Dove Men+Care Body & Face Bath Bar (Extra Fresh),

I first wash my ass, cock, and armpits 

Then I rinse

Then with Head & Shoulders Classic Clean 2 in 1 Dandruff Shampoo + Conditioner

I wash my hair, followed by a rinsing

Then with Dove Men+Care Body & Face Wash (Extra Fresh),

I wash my entire body again.

Including the same body parts I washed with the bar soap

Followed by a final rinse

And I dry with my black towel while still standing in the tub

The towel that has been dryer spun way too many times

I carefully step out onto my bamboo bath mat and dry my feet

Then with Colgate Total Anticavity Fluoride and Antigingivitis Toothpaste, Advanced Clean,

I brush my teeth gently - not too vigorously, as to not harm my gums

That is followed by a minute of swishing around of

Listerine Total Care Zero Mouthwash

That was shortly after 7 O’clock

As the clock approached 20 minutes past the 7 O’clock hour, or so,

I brewed some Chilmark brand Single Speed Espresso, Ethiopia Negele Sidamo-Sumatra Mandheling coffee

My apartment filled with such an inviting and warming aroma

It truly was delicious

I drank my over 8oz. cup of coffee around half past 7 O’clock

At half past 7 O’clock I continued drinking my coffee and

I turned on the computer, an evil necessary gadget

Perhaps first considered invented back in 1872 by Sir William Thomson

I’ve been called a Sir before. Plenty of times

But that’s an entirely different context that we won’t get into now

And so I began checking email, the news, and facebook

Sometimes these sources of communication can truly be addictive

I try to limit my time in the morning using these technologies

Perhaps around 8 O’clock I turn off the nonsense

And so an hour after I woke up at 7 O’clock

I continue my day with what’s needed to be done

I review my calendar and contemplate:

Is today a day I have a date?

Is today a day I visit a museum?

Is today a day I donate platelets?

Is today a day I work at the art studio?

Is today a day I attend an art opening?

Is today a day I ate a burger with someone?

Is today a day I have a doctor’s appointment?

Is today a day I work at home on design work?

Is today a day I attend a performance or concert?

Is today a day I attempt to ask someone to sign my bible?

Is today a day I take a photo booth portrait with someone?

My days vary completely

But as they vary, they are the same

Constantly moving forward

With my Kuru shoes made specifically for people with plantar fasciitis

With my continued struggle to avoid cookies (I happen to really love chocolate chip cookies)

But onward I march

Like a poetic warrior of laboring love

© 2014 David Greg Harth

14.07.10.07:10:00@130BklynNYC

Impact

There are two ways

            of making

an

            impact

Laughter we shared

Smiles photographed

Music we heard

Concert we danced at

Tears we tasted

Mourning in silence

Snow that fell upon us

Running in the rain

Soaring planes

Observing skies

Walking side by side

Holding hands down the street

Conversations had

Games of phone tag

Burgers eaten

Sharing dessert

Taking a photo booth portrait

Visiting an art museum

Laying upon the grass in the park

Bird songs echoing overhead

Riding the roller coaster

Drifting on the ocean’s edge

Waking up late

Eating popcorn at the movies

Standing for eternity

Witnessing a signature

Kissing beneath midnight

Making love forever

All these experiences

And I have nothing left

Nothing to give

And nothing to receive 

Every bone crushed

Every organ destroyed

I become no longer recognizable

I am dead

It was impossible to survive a fall from such a height

A jump

After my body has impacted the ground

The mourners will ask you,

How has he impacted your life?

© 2014 David Greg Harth

14.05.15.09:32:00@130BKLYNNYC

Epic Battle

These monsters combat my moral insides

These demons assault my daily breath

I attempt to abide and keep in control

But the more I live on

The more I want to die by suicide

© 2014 David Greg Harth

14.03.31.22:47:12@130BklynNYC

Mistakes

I have no regrets

Except, perhaps, that one woman

I was in my young 20’s

We had a date

I walked her home

We were making out at the entrance of her apartment building

She asked me to choke her

I did

She was a twin and lived with her sister

Back then I wouldn’t go in on the first invite

I was invited

But I didn’t go in

That was the first woman who asked me to choke her

Afterwards, in reflection, that was one of the moment’s I realized I was a dom

I regret not going up to her apartment

Her name escapes me

But regrets are different from mistakes

I’ve made a lot of mistakes

But they aren’t regrets

There are people I should have married

There are people I should have had a baby with

There are jobs I should have accepted

There are opportunities I should have ceased

There are residencies I should have attended

There are benefits I should have gone too

There are art receptions I should have been at

There are lectures I should have been present at

Those were all choices

Perhaps not even mistakes

Choices led to the life I have now

And this life I have

Is grand

It is the path I have carved for myself

Even if I struggle daily to survive

That struggle keeps me alive

I need this pain to keep me going

Because the purpose I am here

Will be revealed shortly

And the last mistake will not be a mistake

But a fully crafted calculated decision

Years in the making

My longest art work

© 2014 David Greg Harth

14.03.06.10:27:17@130BklynNYC

Walking

The further I breach the border of sanity

The closer I reach the destructive addiction

The closer I become addicted

The higher the chances of full blown insanity

The higher the insanity the greater the chance I become a statistic

The chance of me becoming a statistic is within seven minutes

© 2014 David Greg Harth

14.02.25.16:17:36@323NYC

Quietly Come, Quietly Go

I’ve been summoned

Synchronized and scrutinized

Not in my birth father’s footsteps

But in the footsteps of the undertaker

These are the blossoms of life that you don’t believe in

The chances you are unwilling to take

Like the swells in the ocean’s fury

Like the gusts in the wind’s scream

Each lover I’ve had

Contracted the worse disease of all

For the day I commit suicide

They can surely say

“I made love with him”

© 2014 David Greg Harth

14.02.14.14:14:14@323NYC

The Depth of Darkness

Not even one

Knows the truth

No sister, no friend, no father, no foe

Everyone underestimates

How sad

How lonely

How horrific

How painful

How dreadful

How disturbing

How loathsome

This life could become

And when life becomes

Such a headache

Such a mission

Such a burden

Such a barren

Such a waste

Such a battle

Such a task

It seems to me

One could

Find end

Find escape

Find resolve

Find closure

Find answers

Find steadfast

Find conclusion

Quite easily

If you just look around

At the suggestions

At the architecture

At the substances

At the information

At the methods

At the objects

At the tools

You have readily available

Right in front of you

© 2014 David Greg Harth

14.02.07.07:07:07@130BklynNYC

Unrecognizable

The crimson darkness has fallen upon us

I have vivid memories of you

Courting you with everything I’ve got

With an ammunition of poetry

Lying next to you on the Great Lawn

Beneath the galaxy of shimmering stars

Penetrating your wetness deeply from behind

Your hands pressed up against the cold window pane

The crimson darkness has fallen upon us

We lost our child to a storm of resulting emotions

You moved so far away from me

Coital cephalgia still infiltrates daily

Voices of you scream a haunting echo

In the empty chambers of my heart

I was intoxicated with infatuation

Blinded by your secret allurement

The crimson darkness has fallen upon us

Liquid dripped from your inner thigh months too early

We were bound for complete sadness

Our eyes turned to unyielding stone

Everything failed and came to a complete halt

As we battled for each other's existence

Off the bridge you desired

You walked on and I fell deep

Turned once more

Your lips parted slightly

As if to say one last goodbye

The shadows swallowed you whole

And you were gone

As the crimson darkness has fallen upon me

I have become unrecognizable

© 2014 David Greg Harth

14.01.30.03:12:41@130BklynNYC

Something I’ve

She approached

With a wave and a hatless flow of hair

Her killer smile made my knees melt into the snow below

But I won't talk about that

For now

Because her intellect

Stimulated conversations

Of multiple directions

She kissed me

I kissed her

In the frigid air

Taught me well

A new perspective

Which I love

At my old age of dry eyes and acid reflux

To listen

Think, once again

Before I speak

A reflection

A believer

Romance

Forefront

Forward

She enveloped me

Briefly we thought, scared me

I checked

Her bitten hands covered in gloves

There was that smile again

Hop on the plane

Next destination

Prediction, perhaps

Welcomed observations

If she never comes back

To the circle I have become

She shed light

To the fact that sometimes

I am indeed

Too square

But she

Is the circle with no fear

The courageous tiger that stares back at you

The global beacon

Which I hear,

Bing, Bing, Bing

The educator - The teacher

Not even counterfeiting

Or dancing

But prowling with determination

Sly, she knows

With a whispering departure

She goes...

At the end, it’s all

Something I’ve learned

© 2014 David Greg Harth

14.01.24.02:36:41@130BklynNYC

Taken Too Soon

Walking on the sidewalk

Passing reflections in the glass

Everywhere I look

I see haunting memories of you

It was twenty years ago to this very day

That I lost you

We were young and in love

We had grand plans

That our parents didn’t approve of

We talked of traveling the world

Making babies and love under a sunset’s ocean

We talked of setting up a small café

Among locals that spoke a different language than us

We talked about sailing oceans

From port to port

Even though neither one of us knew how to sail

We talked about writing a book together

About adventure and sex and loneliness

Even though we were virgins of life back then

I walk the cold streets of New York

And think about what could have been

An empty typewriter sits in my studio

My heart is broken

Because you were my first

And my only

Ever since you’ve been gone

There has been no one

Remotely comparable

No matter how many times I mend

No matter how many dates I attend

No matter how many samplings I taste

I wish the Five O’Clock was late

Bending around that curve

The train was on time

There was no warning

The lights weren’t flashing

The barriers weren’t down

My foot was on the gas

I was driving as late autumn leaves drifted in the air

Your hands outstretched from the car window

We were singing together out loud          

Tom Petty’s “Free Fallin’” was on the radio

And that we were, so free

You were so cheerful and beautiful

It happened so suddenly

And in such slow motion

The cracking and crumbling

The shattering of glass

The car spun a few times

Around and around

When I came to

I felt the trickle of blood

Down my face

I looked at the passenger seat

And you were gone

© 2013 David Greg Harth

13.12.11.17:47:56@323NYC

Roberta Smith Puts Crumbs In Her Pocket

I get on the subway at Union Square

Riding North on the N train

I see Roberta just sitting there

She is sitting quite near

I’m standing right next to her red auburn hair

Not to be compared to a Vermeer

What do I say and what do I do?

She signed my bible but doesn’t know my name

Do I ask her for a review?

Do I ask her to take a photo booth portrait with me?

Or invite her out for a burger?

Maybe I should just make one plea

You see-

I’ve been on this crazy diet recently

I’ve been doing well, lost 25 pounds

No cookies, no muffins, no cupcakes, no brownies

Because I stopped making the sweet rounds

But you see

I see this famous art critic on the train

And all I really wanted to ask her for was a bite

If only my tongue could have just one grain

From where I was standing

It looked as if Roberta was enjoying

A Nature Valley 100% Natural Oats ‘n Dark Chocolate Crunchy Granola Bar

I didn’t ask for a nibble, for fear of being insanely annoying

After she devoured that granola bar

Crumbs descended upon her transparent yellow folder which contained a possible critique

She neatly wiped the crumbs into her cupped hand

And placed the crumbs in her pocket in one smooth streak

I respected Roberta before

But now even more

For she doesn’t leave her crumbs

On the subway floor!

© 2013 David Greg Harth

13.12.02.16:00:00@NTrainUnionSqToTimesSqNYC

The Ghosts We Have Become

With nothing to do

I place stories to nameless faces

Trying to reconstruct false memories

I make love to islands of women

And prevent true love from penetrating

Every defense system I’ve put in place

Falling from Hudson’s cross

I count the countless

And become just another statistic

It was so transparent and evident

But you were so blind and deaf

To all the signals and calls

Today’s decree witnessed by passersby

Aloft with yearning above my own termination

Until I am adrift with my last love letter to you

We have conceded to the future’s deathly grip

Permanently free from this perverse sense of rapture

All we have become are ghosts of yesterday

© 2013 David Greg Harth

13.11.24.23:09:47@130BklynNYC