EKPHRASIS

Oh diaphanous dreams made flesh. What magic yet what real-reality. Those thoughts-words. Those metaphoric mutations-computations. Into those veiled twilights of the borders of the real and the imagined, the memory playing tricks on the consciousness of the brain, floating about between the synapses of the grey matter lighting them up like searchlights in the dark, picking out this, then that, then standing solidly there so real, so tangible, so wonderful-and yet ephemeral like all else in the end. The word believe is loaded, is particular, it has been made particular by us and yet it too is open to interpretation like all words, they too have their flux of meanings just like the essence of this poem, fluctuating between reality and dream, this meaning and that, I find it all very fascinating and inspiring, thank you Longobardolino for your philosophy, and love from your Annuccia

I enjoyed your poem and I agree with you on that we can fool the mind into believing. You have a really clever mind. Love Lyz. XX

Ann did describe it beautifully I shall leave my stars and my love to honour your write ... bravo Joe Love and hugs your Jayne-Chloe x x x