Here's my first rewrite. This poem's origin is in the poet's reaction the first War in Iraq. I'll post the original later.
Stress and Stain
Killing my brain
Leaves my train of thoughts tangled as twelve people
Dead in a confusion of crashed railroad cars,
Cabooses up, engine ends down.
No, yes, I can or think I could, toot-toot.
Just empty sounds of parts falling, echoing away
like oil fire dust clouds in arid lands or
Blownup up Twin Towers.
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