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.

Go Fish

Imagine yourself on a bay in a boat 
riding each swell as you sway while you float; 
fishing and wishing away with each cast 
that lines will soon find the fish wished for at last. 

And when, now or then, such a fine fish is landed, 
imagine how far (thinking StarKist as brand) did 
that so sorry Charlie, your fish, have to swim 
for you to catch on, reading this rhyme of him. 

It's obvious! I mean, as you've seen, there's a question 
regarding retarded things like this suggestion. 
Take it to heart. Take it friendly, in jest. 
Well, that's just the first thing I'd like to suggest. 

As pertains to likes and to what people hate, 
there's this one little thing I've been thinking of late. 
When I say 'in jest', do you hear and ingest 
the content, exactly, of what is confessed? 

Can we be friends, or would it end our beginning 
if you knew something fishy was wished for you winning? 
For my part, I've a question, suggesting the same, 
lest it cause indigestion invoking a name 

like a fish or a brand, or the stand that you take 
on a boat, still afloat in this rhyme as we make 
our way through sea spray to the last pinned in line 
to see if the sea has your fish yet defined. 

So, tell your friends about me. Tell them how you think I am. 
Describe me like my Angel does. I'm just a two can Sam. 
Tell them what I said when I say, Who do you call friends 
when you are calling all your enemies anemones with fins? 

Like, I think that means a clownfish can describe who to oppose. 
By so suggesting, such investing of a thought just means I chose 
to wish those fish their endings by so bending words in line 
like this. Of course, the mission of these fishy words is mine, 

and what I mean by writing is inviting you to cast 
your lot, all that you've got, into an ocean of thought vast 
and endless, saint and sinless, as each universe is made. 
In essence, the quintessence of a really good game played. 

And having played the game we're playing now, it's been decided 
here within this sphere that our universes have collided 
and with such a collision a decision must come and pass. 
As pertains to fish and doubt, would you wish trout or bass?