the pro

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why collect?
possession is a phantom,
the precept of a sect. 

there are bad teachers,
like the hoarding currents
of the seas, the hands of 
noise, blind and greedy, 
and yet like learning to
kill prey with mercy,
to slit and not tear,
in keeping with it,
in keeping it with,
yes, instead keeping
things on shelves,
instead playing 
notes.

perhaps fire was gifted
to stop us from saving
every clipping, to burn
the hair from our throats,
to remind the mother,
"to grow is to burn,"
and to answer why 
a corpse goes cold.

to fire a gun and 
bottle the smoke,
to bottle the sweat
of a worm after its
first meal, to shift
every length of your
body to reach the
farmer's carrot,
to rinse the carrot
and save the dirt
for scrap-booking,
like baby teeth.

there is no fairy for
a child's first word.

oh,
how long life is,
how rich in things.