crocodile hunter, shaman's apprentice

i gather my sticks and stones
beat around the bush
facing East, then West
bow three times

scrape my knees on the doorstep of persuasion
the attic filled with cobwebbed intrusions of domesticity
but nothing seems out of place,
my basement leaks with water under the foundation
and the walls shout with time cracking through the lifted iris
you purr like a selfish house cat, smug and twitching his whiskers
with pensive appetite,

i'm off to save the world, the sting ray in my pocket,
a jawbone on my shoulder,
dragonflies busy dodging mouthfuls of distress
the croc ticking out his schemes on Tuesday afternoon,

you could do worse than read this poem.
you should have read the riddle I left for you.