by Mark Head

If I could have known what the wrinkle twinkle said
And sent it down some streams of liquid night
Waylaying silent eyes for reasons known, who to?
‘If I could have reaped…’ the shrinkle winkle said
And his eyes soft misty ebbed to far non instant views
‘Then where can I go?’ the shrinkle twinkled said
Peering past the portal’s inner view.
‘- But if you could only see….?
‘Impossible’ breathed he
Whose twinkling eyes wax lustred worn and stainted teeth,
Slow heaving sinews creaking the oarblades curving sheath.
‘If I could have rowed to shores where wrinkle’s at ….’
‘But this is mine, not yours, for mine’s a different sea’
And skipping scores of stones from shoreward came to me
Finger splashlets pointing from a placid lea.

‘If I could only hear past the Nautilus’s ear ….’
‘Your thinking’s not unspiralled’ thunder tumbled back the sea
While shrinkle’s eyes flashed beams from his becalming sea.
‘If I could weave from sea reeds the raft that Moses knew ….’
‘Huh’ the winkle said, ‘That raft’s an upwards view’
‘And anyway ….’ and sweat rolled of his brow,
‘That role is not for you.’

The boat sliced sand and jerked the view
While winkle calmly lit his pipe and then he looked at me
The next I knew was he was gone
And the boat its prow was free.

Go back! Not yet!
There’s time enough for you
For shrinkle twinkle rip van winkled
Eyes of age in dreaming
Was not yet quite for me.


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