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.


Tender heart, please flail me now!
 Although you know I plod, a cow
 could pass my ass as I run, oddly
 looking like some dumb, ungodly
 sheep. So please, just keep on beating
 hard, and never mind my bleating.