Thinking about closure, I waver, I vacillate.
I like the ends of poems that assert, that point or nudge, that leave me with one chunk of thought or image I can feel in my head and stomach, yet I also find pleasing poems that don’t end but rather simply stop. Thus my attraction to much visual poetry (e.g. Spencer Selby's Problem Picture), poems with multiple entry and exit points, eye not tugged by beginning-middle-end, but invited into simultaneity.
I like the artificiality of closure -- we have no such thing in our real lives so why not in our art -- as well as the absence of closure, the drift of our lives documented but not stilled.