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 is filled with cobwebbed intrusions of domesticity but nothing seems out of place, the 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 are busy dodging mouthfuls of distress my croc is ticking out his schemes on a Tuesday afternoon, you could do worse than read this poem. you should have read the riddle I left for you.