Dioxin Field is an immersive VR poem that fills what poetry ordinarily regards as whitespace with panoramic imagery. The poem is about the slow violence, environmental and otherwise, of the ongoing U.S. occupation of Okinawa. It is written inside linked 360˚ photographs of the same site over several 21st-century moments, and casts back to the site’s 20th-century history through text anchored in personal memory and public archives. In its form, it recalls the popular 19th century panoramic installation paintings of war scenes and distant landscapes a viewer would likely never experience in person. 360˚ panoramas, then and now, promise the confidence of total vision, the ability to see and therefore discover everything available to be known in a scene. But of course they are also merely spheres with finite edges, trapped in the instant the camera shutter clicks. In writing this poem about a military fenceline, I leverage immersive VR’s affective power in order to learn about the limits of vision from inside an ideological bubble, the capacity of poetry to see with depth, and the long aftereffects of war as they manifest in our everyday environments and language.