Synesthesia, metaphoric transfer among the senses, was a resource of language long before the French symbolists announced they had discovered it. No doubt that their experiments with hashish and opium — almost all they had available — did facilitate their grasp of it. I know there is a lot of bad shit out there, but part of me applauds those who experiment with pharmceuticals instead of just ingesting them passively by prescription.
***
Rocks are the way to the river where wild
ducks swoop and swoon in relaxed profusion.
I can hear time shuttering closed to light,
the three remaining dimensions inverted
in shimmering drips along jalousie panes.
First there is rain. Then gales of radiant
green & gold blow in irridescent gusts by.
Crescents shine within glossy concave leaves.
No sound straggles out of spectral sequence.
Even drops off eaves & lashes patter
to a beat. Branches reach out to shake hands.
O, the radiant symmetry of the elms,
retinal veins through which suns stagger
on stilts, suturing folds of soil and sky.