pandit

it burns
of course it burns – it would always have burnt
not just now – burning is lunar hope
the eternal present is shredded paper
who chuckling clutches a your bills before the twinkle of a dime
and the past is an incandescent balloon
who runs in short steamy breath to the time engine
but the future is toilet-roll hollow
who lets the eye of the past extend
who is a coy and slimy telephone
then pries the guttery and insomnia
from an unlikely occupant ravaged )(by, fire)
(is – )(
incombustible

[word experiment – reaction to random prompt ‘prometheus’ and scrambled poem ‘death and co.'(- Plath, Sylvia) ]