i burned the tainted toys
who inhabited
the sick room
of our children
my hands
tore to shreds
the print of picasso’s
guernica
as the clash played spanish bombs
i no longer care to remember the war
all the dead tea bags
are in wednesday night’s garbage
the european coffee cans
became coffins for pets
buried in the ground
all that remains of us
is the occasional wince
of lingering poetry
i’m traveling north
to perform at a university
in our
half way point city
but no matter
screaming signals
broadcast through white noise
i won’t
be making a right
at
youngstown