The all-too-familiar misshapen, twirled blur, 
tipping the glass from side to side; 
clear fluids’ flexibility holding in tact. 
Wobbly, unblemished, waving up ‘n down— 
crashing and jumping within boundary, 
only occasionally sloshing over the edge.

No walls to clatter and crash into abruptly. 
Just space to float, flood and dive freely.
Despite all the madness, joy ensues... 
does all the folly permit all the thrill and delight?


A spark of bright flips a flash into a drop
fresh in the air, escaping the tipping glass;


a flicker quivering through air-born dribble 
before returning to its source,
unblemished and primed to spring out 
with the next rippling wave to come.

The back and fourth and return 
around — the systemic U-turn disorientates, 
confuses and bewilders reality’s repetition;

but the dance of replication improves — 
or at least strays and varies — with time. 
Nevertheless, the wave dodges complete 
duplication, never quite the same,
still always back n’ fourth, side to side, 
up and down, painting a mammoth sphere.

Grin-filled, floating droplets wafting upward, 
climbing closer to puffed clouds, 
peak then fall, dwindling toward down, 
before skimming atop the masses.

Tranquility survives within the 
motion of it all, the swaying whirl 
disarming most unwelcoming grasps. 
The globe gestures around, demanding 
motion while holding feet, trees, and all else, 
but birds, to the rounded ground.

No matter the hurricane, twisting all matter 
apart, it all eventually lands back down.
When land rips apart at the seams, flooding 
sun at, until that moment, unlit earth, it all
 eventually lands back down; 
back n’ fourth, side to side, up and
down and finally, back to its source, 
a familiar, clear bead of drink,
but never again quite the same.