Deal (Rewrite)

Previously written, like my youthful style in this, similar to high school poems...

I deal

with the Jerusalem jeers

brambles and boot heels upon the chest

because I choose to be

inside the sardine can nest

practice altars and fears

I choose toy guns

rather than the illusions

of ice-sculptures and invalid-love

or winded wishes' ruse

wasted weddings' bruise

I choose (by God's whistling whim

and peanut gallery)

The art

the crooked

the crime

because it crickets inside

where the sigh and cry begins

where the biohazard happiness ends

Because I choose

this cypress curse

my quiet drums

my moving museums

for steady love's

rapture roulette

you can bet

I choose whom

and why, how, and when

just because I can.

I deal

because self hatred

serves an empty meal.

Reviews

[Ed Hart]

skipping and jumping, and staying just ahead of the devils come to make you behave

[Butch Decatoria]

Those darn devils... thank you for reading