14. topsy-turvy sacred fish

king john kineval, the lord of the levels,
fighting for center in a world off its kilter — 
and prickly pete, his mate from the city — 
in-crescent, obedient, tristraming — 
long john mcgillin, the captive villain,
didn’t know what, or, at least, was willing — 
together they spire, sparrow, riddling — 
freeze dried felipe, the cosh-wielding hippie,
took them to oak-tree, and, after,
when tall-boy the traitor asked for an adder, 
all of the water just flooded away — 
left field the miser with mud on his face,
went to a door, to negotiate,
waiting in endless and messy delays — 
de-braked, de-crested, de-galloping — 
asked what the freaks were balancing — 
said it must be a mystery — 
concubine constance joked “what witchery”,
wasn’t far wrong, well, after all,
what with the cake, the cost, and the cure,
cuffed colloquial right in the head — 
took jack diamond back to the shed — 
black cat and alfred followed behind,
with toast, and treason, and twelvemen,
vaulted the cathy the camera kitten — 
melchior mission the out-of-date system,
had, then, a very small aneurism,
fell in the sack, almost bit it,
was rescued by sam the pack rat,
passing, on his way to a photograph — 
paused for a moment to view the collection,
asked all that was necessary

i don’t know what they’re all for,
outside, they seem to fall on the floor — 
in some way i’m sure it maybe makes sense,
if only it’s just in my head

everything i see, from without to within,
things people share i don’t understand — 
all that i want is someone to talk to,
share something just me and you

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