Crisader - Wigwam
Angles
Pole held in hiding
Catches dead fish
Timorous rhythm  ceaseless  Rup-tured
Caressus
Catches dead fish
And pours into pocket
At length at length aware of death
Rushes
On wings of dread for familiar tree
Oblivious of pants at dry and warm change
Shackles locked with blessings
Opens book wearily
And lectures on ichtyic-reproduction
Vocation  and responsibility true winds
Of perdition
Trying to release  to cool
Trying to Strengthen
But safe and righteous mirages
Bring low the desperate prayer
Money and me  we'll get any old tree
And money's the same whatever the game