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.

Animal Farm

A thought is brought to eloquence
by chance. A dance with elephants
requires eyes kept on feet. Of course,
I'm just a mouse myself, Love. Horse
around with hounds, my deer. It's clear,

since snow's exposed our footprints here.