Hear Ye. Hear Ye. Here we
propose to posit prose poetry,
forming forms of continuous connectivity
to communicate considerable
contemplative reflectivity.

Simply put, we pose this where
prose poetry is what you'll hear
when wondering where the time went
while reading such rhyme wonderments
as oft we've wrought, and revealed thusly;
each whit of wit written Hieronymously.

Runners, Hi

Speaking now, for just a minute,
as if my world had you within it,
of where we'd be, my world and me
within this whispered poetry,
and see that we'd be bound by just
time, this rhyme, our faith and trust.

So stop right now, or follow through
step by step. First one, then two
feet advanced by chance and choice
give a sieve-like mind its voice.

Sieve-like minds like mine can talk
as if to gift. A man can walk
mellowly through yellow pages
considering his steps as stages
stood upon in bygone days,
the Globe an anchor. Shakespeare plays
poet. Know it now as true:
Steps are taken two by two.

My Soles Are For Sale! They're partly used.
Some people think they've been abused.
They do have dents. They've spent a few
days on pavements, pounding too,
a feat to meet the man who buys
soles when told my fortune lies
waiting. Stating this could be
reason for their end, you see.

So send I will these coupled lines
with ease. And please, if you don't mind
this ending, my sending this brief tale
about two loveless soles for sale
to you, then Do Not Resuscitate.
They're too far gone, those two ... too late.

See, this morning I ran myself blue in the face.
I ran myself all the way through the rat race.
I ran until I was way, way out of breath.
I learned from that. I can run myself to death!

I can run miles with a smile on my face.
Smiling thus whiles away time as I space
out. There's no doubt about who I am. Why,
I'm just a guy with a great runner's high!

Okay, let us play with our cadence a bit.
Let's say that today we display some wit fit
for running. If fun brings us higher, the point
of running high must be why I love a joint
commitment! If it's meant to be, let it be
the reason this pleases my love - poetry
in motion. The notion of Angels in flight
should explain sacred names here on my site.