Dreams of words

So regarding that synesthesia post.

Where I said versimilitude is like green silk falling.

Here is a poem about what versimilitude sounds like and feels like. Because a quick description can't fully discover what versimilitude feels like. Or really much details about it at all. Poetry comes a bit closer, but still can't quite completely get the idea, either.


An exuberance
of pontificating words
spilling out like brocade cloths and lace
from a dresser drawer
and verisimilitude falling
like raw silk light green
reflecting and shimmering
against a waterfall of mercury

and then reality has performed its vanishing act

the waterfall

pools on the floor reality
has puddled up in silver
beads on glass

a reflecting pond on a mirror leaving only dreams above
they fly up like autumn leaves in a whirlwind like butterflies disturbed
along the edge of a mirror

only now reality still vanquished
do they attain
refracted light and puzzle pieces of sky fall to the ground

leaving a black box

and dreams

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