A Poem Is a Poem

A poem is a poem because it is. But there was a time when it had no name, when it was a branch, or a stone, or a thief, or a mere 2:00 AM concern. Now, just like that, it has arrived, jumping over a fence, bursting through the door, and asking for a place to stay. It opens windows, and closes doors, leaves footprints, and builds fires. It touches bones, and raises spirits. It stirs up ghosts, and supports the living. It is; it isn’t; it can’t be; but it is; it is; it is.

• A R Ammons