Jake's Flea Market

after i’d returned
from the blood rugged floors of elsinore

when those harvested
by poison on the foil’s blade
by poison in the wine goblet

with the crop of maggots planted

i returned to the varnished
oakwood of a classroom in the leucorea   

resumed my consumption 
of the germ of luther’s philosophy

it sprouts in me still   

it sprouts out
into the sermon i prepare for sunday   

the sermon is a spikelet of wheat   

the preaching is the shaking 
of the wheat stem from where the kernel falls