The Lost Fool

A stranglehold on my foot as I hang upside down
I am the king redeemed by deposition, lost fool
that wanders the strand and cliff-face, fey wild
my hair is sea salt tangles, a satchel of wands,
a bucket of stars, freshly pulled from damp earth
when you’re suspended in reverse, night lays below
and you walk the world backwards, heyoka, off towers
you fall always, and there is no net but the heavens
you have no home when you’re a jester on the road to
godhood, you make your bed with wolves in peopleskin
the coins and staves and cups and swords all my heart
I am the zero, the one you never depend on, and a
found fool is one that was never a fool to begin with
my truths are that my subversiveness is effortless and
you are all my actors in this Commedia del Arte, I the
Harlequin, perhaps you my Columbine, I take many masks
many forms, no one is quite like the joker, trickster,
troll, outlaw, rebel, outcast, renegade, call me what
you like, for I am the wayward wizard, zero sum mime
and I own nothing but my own honor, which is spineless
having no bones makes falling off cliffs easier, you
bend and bounce, and become the magician in sweet time.

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