The Poem (n.) is, when great, a hypertext into the universal and eternal.
The Poem (n.) is best when it openly refutes the poets last definition of poetry.
The Poem (n.) has many rooms, corridors, and closets.
The Poem (n.) is a by-product of existence. It has no value as artifact unless connected to a life.
The Poem (n.) is a cabinet of curiosities.
The Poem (n.) is a contract of adhesion. Drafted by one party and offered to the reader on a take-it-or-leave-it basis.
The Poem (n.) is a desperate struggle between release and resolve.
The Poem (n.) is a flag for no nation.
The Poem (n.) is a garden planted too large to ever be perfectly kempt.
A Poem (n.) is a genre wrecking literary instrument.
The Poem (n.) is a mosaic of well-placed words.
The Poem (n.) is a novel distilled to its essential paragraph.
A Poem (n.) is a ping in the universe whose sender cares not if it hits anything and echoes back.
A Poem (n.) is a resonant hive. Hear it, and feel its vibrant thrum.
The Poem (n.) is a skiffle language: scrounged, improvised, vagrant.
The Poem (n.) is a thing in which the expression may be apt rather than exact.
The Poem (n.) is a thing in which the lines strain to weave themselves into a simultaneous tapestry of experience.
The Poem (n.) is a thing in which the temporal collapses into the universal now.
The Poem (n.) is a thing in which the words are given their personal space.
The Poem (n.) is a thing in which the words ask to be attended to on many levels.