Another Old Poem by R L Swihart: "Heart"
Another old poem I just found on the Net in Right Hand Pointing: "Heart." Had totally forgotten it. Not sure whether it ever made it into one of my books. Heart 1. Words. Symbols. Sums. What fraction of reality gets into them? The commerce of the hordes, he thinks. The earth-dwellers. Those with the hubristic screech and scrawl. 2. Heart is playing at the Hollywood Bowl tonight ( Crazy on You ). He is tooling about trying to get the right combination of nibbles and bits: Pinot noir, brie, fresh figs, etc. Leaving TJ’s, he flinches, then grabs a few plastic knives and forks from their holsters on the wall. Sorry, he thinks. We’ve done this to ourselves. We’re doing it. Stopping isn’t an option.
