Poems by R.L. Swihart

Alchemy 101

Rereading Strindberg. Again I begin with the Inferno

*

Carbon is in everything. Gold is in everything.
And what will I do with the dross?

*

My doppelgänger inhabits the mirror. Some say he went
off to America. Within the last month, he’s healed
himself a dozen times

*

My chestnut has been cut down. The pansy on the right
has her face. I spend an hour or two looking
for heart-shaped stones

*

“You said you’d never see me again”

“I know it. And I meant it with all my heart”

*

After the rain I walk with a friend across the pontoon bridge.
Real and reflected world

 

Alchemy 102

The man next door is playing chess with me. How do I know,
I don’t. I sit down to write, he writes. I take a nap,
he takes a nap

*

I take the mail to the mailbox and he’s already there

*

I Google re the poisoning of Sergei Skripal and his daughter.
I see the forensics tent they covered the bench
with

*

I was once in Salisbury

*

I once was in the Jardin des Plantes. I saw very few plants.
I saw more lovers than plants. I saw a young man
cradling a much older woman. I was waiting
for the train

*

The night train from Paris to Portbou, then on to Barcelona,
no longer runs. The terraced oranges no longer grow.
We took the TGV. Variations on a theme: green.
Sheep. Raindrops harnessed for racing
on glass

 

Alchemy 103

My wife and I are doing better, so that’s not it

*

The millstones are invisible but larger than ever –
and they’re grinding us to bits

*

Takeaways from the end-of-the-semester meeting:
this person’s out, that person’s a replacement,
three men and a lady agree: our lives are
picking up speed and everything’s
downhill from here

*

On the way home: abstracting geometry problems
for next semester. Between that and the occult sky
(pink ribbons wrapping the gift of a sunset),
I got lost on the freeway and coming back
was like a trip to Buoyancy

 

Alchemy 104

Editing Dad’s obit: by day I read the feedback,
at night (in front of the TV) I revise.
Everyone wants a piece
of the action

*

A bit like Penelope’s situation, though hardly
an exact fit. Will it forestall his death?
Worth a try

*

In the Land before Time, there is no sorrow.
The hard science of Physics is getting
softer. By the brook in the shadow
of LOVE

 

Alchemy 105

On a cold morning and over coffee, a friend handed me
a poem to read. I read it and handed it back

*

The poet said she didn’t have words, but she wrote.
I don’t have words, they have me

*

For my taste, the poem was too political and too effusive.
And I yearned for an Archimedean point

*

Stupid me