Secrets Of Robinson Crusoe Poem by Nathan Coppedge

Maybe Robinson Crusoe read "Robinson Crusoe".
And crossed an Escher Waterfall.
Maybe cats have nine tales to tell.
Maybe we're all as drunk and confused as Beelzebub in the end.
Maybe fishermen are for catching monsters.
Maybe riddles run deep.
Maybe flow always finds it's channels.
On this island I have learned how difficult truths are deep.
How hilarious fears are impossible monsters.
How fears fit in metallic channels.
How empty truths are merely bubbles.
How patterns always become uncovered.
And the reason is always at the end of the road.
Somehow hook-ed and crook-ed.
With the savage looking like a priest.
And the noble looking savage.
And the dog wagged by his own tail.
The mission fulfilled on Saturday.
And anything we drink tasting quite good enough for me.
The sign on the door says ‘GoobersDYE'.
The sun setting is enough for us.
The shadows are walking West.
…
Lingering thought unless it could be like something else. Yes it should. Something wizard. Like a list. Something—That old devil—never kissed. Make it moody. Mental sharps. Save your answers. Delphic marks. Shake your head. Miss your name. Live up from your flashy grave.