Poems of April 2018 #1

Concentric Bubbles

When I think in poetry,

I draw diagrams of meaning

inside larger circles of words

made of symbols for windy sounds 

constricted.

 

Packs of baseball cards on the racks

as I walk past into the supermarket

enclosed me in a scent memory

of cardboard and bubblegum

a distant feeling circle

so immense I could never 

get outside of it.

 

Now my limiting circles have expanded

to reach stars and inverted

down to microbes and electrons,

my enveloping skin stretched 

so thin I could pop me with a thought.

This entry was posted in Abstraction, All part of the process, Being Human, file folders and nut shells, mindworks, NaPoWriMo, philosophy, poetry, thinking in words, time travel and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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