Jake's Flea Market

you learn solitude

your classmates   all are like older uncles

i haven’t read   anywhere that the soul has 
shutters that swing   open   

nor have i heard anywhere
that it has doors

your peers   when they stroll
uphill the street to market square

down lane through the meadow

when they wade from the grass
shores of the elbe into the shallows

when the light of the sun

the air not smoked by candle flame

when the winter   odorless   purifies
through the pores into the rooms
of every fellow’s essence

sons of the common ranks
your rivals   they leave you behind

you live by candle light

by the dim   after sunrise you read
study in the library

and by the dim   after midday you question
debate the lecture in the classroom

finally by the dim
at dusk in your room you write the treatise

i don’t say your acumen by so far exceeds
nor that theirs so falls short

you’re the much younger nephew

you live in your dark cell
with the smells of smoke and urine   decay 

your dark cell lives in you