Picasso's craft . . .
strewn within the foyer of V.A. reception center —
disconnected logic
among amputated limbs —
black birds slavage used parts for spare clutter,
churn common area incapable of repair —
horrid facial mossaic bellows agony,
burnt flesh scent wafts from the wards,
dying stench etched on faces of loved ones —
all transfixed to surreal mural
of grim distortionsbr>
and contorted fixations
measured by number of blinks
of tearing eyes.