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.

Fat Bottomed Girls

Conspicuous absences, lapses, and doubt bring 
certainty, curtain calls, and fat ladies shouting 
with voices enjoined, coining phrases designed 
to send happy endings, when thusly combined. 

Sing thee, and bring me Spring, Summer, through Fall 
to enter my Winter when I hear your call 
each passing time, and divined for one reason.
It reveals the fact that your Word changed my season.