This will be short, of course, maybe a quick observation, a moment preserved, as in this no-sentence poem by Ezra Pound:

In a Station of the Metro

The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.

An apostrophe like H. D.'s "The Pool":

The Pool

Are you alive?
I touch you.
You quiver like a sea-fish.
I cover you with my net.
What are you—banded one?

Or a brief note like William Carlos Williams' "This Is Just to Say":

This Is Just To Say

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold.

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