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.

Booby Prize

Dear Ms. Tits, ma'am. By your leisure, 
boobies bring both food and pleasure 
to my mind. You'll find me aroused 
by boobies, when they come unbloused. 

 No man is an island Formosa their lives. 
Some have got friends. The others have wives 
to fill spaces where friends would have been 
had nary they tarried to marry. Amen.