The words would
drip
on bits
of paper

anyplace
the lines
would fit

a wrapper
napkin

vacant margin

envelope
or vacant palm

then graduated into loose-leaf

binders

notebooks

up to screens

where countless poems could be saved as
files
e-mail
documents.

And one would think
that was enough

but now the sky's my folio

each day a page unto itself.

My writing's wider
high as clouds

begins to drift through new horizons

spilling into space at night
with meanings nearly large as Earth.

The universe will come to be
my ultimate anthology
collecting all my works in time.

The stars shall vibrate
with my rhyme!