No lavender like speech to break the discontinuity 
         of words in jars 
	          A present made potent as 
          deeper depends from some wellbeing 
  at the surface  Struck a dowsing chord  Not mine

  	         I was in the third world 
         tendering an incline 
		    to venture into

 A bowl of water either calm 
 or inverted  A mineral sachet 
		 into which I put many many things 

The whirlwind aromas troll the surface smooth 

         Sky speech a blue swirl 
   brushed by other times I knew 
	     those fluid fictions came from 
   someone else's thoughts not mine