(poem) broken bottle

[mister c]

fine tune this interplay
and disregard commotion
in the hall, it's just a wirejob
a smokescreen
windscreen wiper foolproof
plan you know it
you can tell i'm smoothing
the edges of your funnel
and sand flows
through the hourglass
ticking timebomb
and buttercups
push up through the ground
like landmines
spitting shrapnel
testing oxygen
vapor with nervous tongue
flame-filled
chasm is closing
and opening
crocodile teeth
and shark mouth
just ripping in
and tearing
and biting
and subtle sky and radiowaves
intermingle like party guests
just an inch away
from a bar room brawl
in which you're stuck with
broken bottle.