Synesthesia
Continual mind movies reel past
as language sequesters. I paint
Gabriel’s voice.
Mix red & black to birth
brown & he speaks. I feel
turtle shell. I hear
the opening & closing
of a chimney flue. Tom Waits.
My hand explores the rugged
surface of a ranch
fence in Wyoming. Prairie
scrub & wide open
horizon smell like a sprig
of wild asparagus & a rushing
creek. A ranch hand in faded
denim is silent. The thud
of cattle hooves like staccato
from a cello. Add more blue
to the brown, which gives
a hint of purple to his voice
& the smell of cracked egg.
14 thoughts on "Synesthesia"
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just right!
your palette on full display.
I’ve always been fascinated by the idea of synesthesia but have been hesitant to drop acid, as one hears people do, in order to experience it. After reading your wonderful poem, I don’t have to! 😏
I love this exploration!
I love this too–transcription of another kind
This poem took my head off, as Emily Dickinson talked about. So many lines shook me, such as “I paint / Gabriel’s voice.” and ” I feel / turtle shell. I hear // the opening & closing / of a chimney flue.” Gave me shivers.
Oh !
My love , you are !
Amaze me , you do !
Blush. I know what Kevin is going to say. And why do you put a space before the exclamation point? Is that space for me?
The shell never touches the egg. There is always core shadow.
Only a painter would know.
I’m with Karen, “I feel / turtle shell. I hear // the opening & closing / of a chimney flue. ” is one of the coolest lines I’ve read this month. What a gorgeous poem.
Beautiful and mellifluous.
I’m with Karen and Bill.
Senses mixed sensuously
there’s no sin in synesthesia
Reminds me of when I was called to a friend’s husband’s bedside to apply Reiki healing. He had sawed off his right lower leg and was having fathom sensations that taught me so much about the multi-levels of healing. This piece paints with words, quite lovely!
Love the images as sounds and visible music …