"Progress Report" a poem by A.R. Ammons:

One of my favorite small poems is Progress Report by A.R. Ammons:

Progress Report

Now I’m
into things

so small
when I

say boo
I disappear

When I first came across it, I didn’t have a clue what it meant. But it stuck with me. One day, about a year or so later, I was walking through a library and it hit me! Aha! That’s what that poem is about! I love that the poem came to me like a little puzzle. It seemed so cute that I let it follow me around and one day it bit me! By that point what could I do? I had already bonded with it and biting me was just its nature…

What is it about small poems? Is it that compact poems are all essence? Is a successful small poem one in which the poet had the good sense to get out before the magic was gone?

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