Jake's Flea Market

it’s stew

a china small   bowl of stew

and now my brother sleeps
all his peaceful nights   works
all his thoughtless days   while i

i try pin the shoulders of all i believe
down to the welcome mat on the hot sand at my door
where belief   evades my reaching fingers and circles
like a fly circles me in the hottest time of the timeless desert

and oh the effort to grasp is stirring
always stirring the sand up to a storm   that clouds me to sleep

and then to have my thoughts wake from stone
and from the ascent of angels   yes
angels climb ladders up my dreams to say my name

i am jacob
growing old to honour
among lives   far and distant as the pharaoh at egypt