When I think in poetry,
I draw diagrams of meaning
inside larger circles of words
made of symbols for windy sounds
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.