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.

I, Cannabis

Picture this: a big abyss, 

as if such space could co-exist 
between us, seen on screen with text 
to illustrate its placement. Next 
time this rhyme suggests that chasm, 
hold fast not to dry sarcasm;
for such as well kempt hemp rope knots 
can mean a lot of hope for pots, 
and hope for dope-like knots might sate 
that piece of mind some blind with hate 
of one another. Brother man, 
as if the gift of thought 'I CAN'
provided your leaping impetus,
say 'I CAN abyss!'

Poet Lariat -Eponymous