seconds: note nine

The surprise in play
is how captivated I become
by some detail. In this case
it is the wobble.
After all the word play can refer
to that little give and take
within the machinery of gears
that mechanically allows for the whole thing
to get going.
I am curious about a collection of wobbles.
They are my affirmations of play.
The earth wobbles;
the moon wobbles;
the north pole wobbles;
and the surface of the sun wobbles.
And my,
as I try and accomplish some task,
memory wobbles.
I am so pleased with all these wobbles.
The tide wobbles.
The splinter in my finger wobbles.
Some wobbles are miniscule.
Some wobbles are enormous,
but in the realm of wobbles,
wobbles tend to add something
without destroying the integrity
of the material or the system.
Maybe that’s what I like about them,
and maybe that’s at the heart of some ineffable explanation.
Maybe.

a note on the image: this is a wobble totem. I made it over a decade ago at the Eno River Festival, Durham, North Carolina, out of a small worn piece of river wood, 2 rusty iron washers and a bit of fishing line found as I walked around. I placed the washers around the wood and threaded the line through the washers to catch a hook of wood. I continued walking around the gathering, dangling this pendulum of sorts.