A Poem Dedicated to the Wonder of Collections. And Libraries.

intimate piles, thrice-dusty gatherings, curated buzzin’ swarms of self-funded treasure,

preowned anthologies n analects or

ancient compositions n curios,

I say:

to each their own.

for what I know is concluded to be of “miniature breadth”,

miscellanea_sans_specialization_96

is my classification.

but toy-train-fascinators

and barbie lovers

plus the woman with an eyebrow catalogue

dating back to ‘83

know a quirkier thing.

on the horizon,

there is a proud Dutchman who has an inclination for

airline barf bags,

a certain Richard Jones who ❤’s worldly metal nails,

a 2,000,000-or-something vino bottles living at Milestii

Mici,

and beautiful

big

buildings

with a lot, a lot

of books!