Parental Advisory

Hear Ye. Hear Ye. Here we propose to posit prose poetry
forming a form 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 are wrought, and revealed thusly,
each whit of wit written Hieronymously.

The Word


Take a deep breath. 
Make a wish. 
Think of a word. 

Think of a man. 
See a man in your mind
as you say The Word 
in your head.

Think of the sound 
that The Word
makes in your mind. 

Hear the sound of The Word
as you say it aloud.

Think of a woman that you love - 
a mother, a daughter, a sister, a wife. 

Think of your love for her. 
Think of her love for you. 
Be embraced and enveloped by it, 
engulfed and absorbed in it. 
Wonder in it. Think of love. 

Think of a woman you love 
hearing the sound of The Word,
making the sound of The Word,
thinking the sound of The Word
that you first took a deep breath for.

Take a deep breath. 
Make a wish. 
Think of a word. 


Pink & Blue Light


it’s just a word you've heard before. 

So, Hallelujah, 

I praise the Lord once more. 

Praise the day. Awake, and see.
Dawn alights, bright as can be. 
See, between the sky and sea, 
pink and blue hues of poetry. 

 Pink and Blue lighting 

highlights my writing 

when what I’ve to say 

dawns, like each new day. 

It dawns on me now 

what you read may allow 

you to see pink and blue 

light the wonders you do too.

Healing Business

 She used to have hair. People stared at her mane. 

Now she has not. She smokes pot for the pain.

A byproduct of all the cannabinoids sent 

to her brain for the pain is enjoyment.

And so, dear friends, my commitment is this,

that the compounds found in cannabis 

should be cause to pause at passing screens. 

What this puff-puff passage means 

is, now you see. So, now you know,

and what you see and know will show

when what you say is just like it is 

of each bit of revealed, healing business.

Our Garden

Speak these words softly for those who hear hard. In 
a moment, a man naked will run through ‘Our Garden’. 

Okay, so the truth is he won’t be quite nude. 
He’ll bear boxers, briefly, to not appear rude. 
‘Our Garden’ is properly private, in a sense, 
but of course it’s quite easy to see through the fence. 

If you look past the plum tree, through timbered split rails 
you’ll see little dogs playing, just chasing their tails
as the man sits still on his hill, talking silly. 
Look if you want, please don't point at his ... Will he 
or won't he? The question remains 
regarding his guarding. ‘The Garden’ pertains 
to all the odd things a man can't compromise. 

This much is certain. You needn't surmise 
that there are things without which a man can’t do.
Kept unto myself as I give mine to you 
in a word, just a whisper, this quieting sound:
For those hard of hearing, it’s hardly profound. 

We live with masked bandits, and burrowing hogs. 
Relating that extends this ideologue 
to show how we know to dispose them as such. 
We might not mind them, except for how much 
they can damage good stuff like our veggies and fruit. 
Were it only a few, we might not give a hoot,
but it isn't that simple. Excuse this brief rant. 
Each hog and masked bandit can eat a whole plant.

So, rather than complain, or get all intense, 
resolve is our answer. At first came the fence, 
but that wasn’t enough to keep all varmints out. 
To find resolution, again, there's no doubt 
that is why I'm writing, so you'll understand. 
Protecting ‘Our Garden’, I’m only one man 
with one clear solution to problems in the yard. 
If you've followed along, then you know just how hard 
we’ve worked to keep critters out from back there.
So, this year we’ll plant more. They will just have to share.


Mustard Seedsbrown, black and white,

grow wildly when exposed to light.

In each word you read

is a very small seed.

So I sow with my left hand, and write.

TEST. Check. Test. Is this thing on? 
Can you hear me?  I think I’ve gone 
completely, sweetly, out of my mind. Did 
I say that right? I’ve just been blinded 
by these bright shining lights. I see 
you blankly staring back at me, 
glaring at these words I'm writing,
when saying things like this, inciting 
riots in the minds of those who 
hear this message. I propose you
might be someone who’s suspected
that this gift of interjected,
perverse verse dispersion,
is a left to right conversion 
table. Able minds will tell 
whether or not this was done well.

Slow Down

Don’t take offense. It makes sense when I say
‘Retard’ is a verb, and it means ‘to delay’. 
Slow down! I have found that the sound of the word 
“Retard” has been guarded against, but that’s absurd. 

You’re going too fast, and this is your last warning!
So, before I go, please let me say, Good morning 
to you who may heed what you read here. In fact, 
once you’ve been retarded a while, please come back.

Entropic topics tend to be more 
caustic when social faucets pour 
streaming data. So beaming faces 
space out here. Of all the places 
we could be, here we see clearly. 
As I write, you might well hear me 
say hooray! I'm so glad you're listening!
It’s as if your beams were glistening 
here where nearly no one comes, 
because I paused to sound this dumb. 

I think I like my bike with wheels,
because ... [a pause] ... of how it feels 
upon my bum, like some big hand. 
When paused, I’ve cause for a kick stand. 

So, paused here, kicking not; 
withstanding blowing winds again,
I’m demanding nothing more or less than stress.
So let these provided syllables caress
where collided thoughts are brought to fruition,
pending the ending of this writer's rending. 

Coming Events

I’m here to tell a story that will simply blow your mind, 
true in every detail. Without question, you will find 
everything authentic; every word and every phrase 
faithfully depicting my predictions of the day's 
events in tense pre-knowing; prescient of coming times 
presently presented in all these well worded rhymes. 

So, since I have something to say;
to pass along in such a way 
as to be rendered understood 
as passing on a bit of good, 
old-fashioned written wit in rhyme, 
revealed, at present, in the time, 
and place this space permit allows; 
permitting wits ever were endowed, 
then but for your intellect 
mine would be lost, I do suspect. 

 Perhaps it’s here, or somewhere close. 
 I've not been far, but that's the most 
that I can say regarding smarts. 
This prose poetry presents ‘Hi Arts’ 
consisting of such stuff as this wit 
so passers’ by might see, or miss it. 

Thus seen, ‘between words’ also are wrought. 
In this dimwit doggerel, ‘sans mots’
conveys that thought quite simply, minded 
such between words are thus defined. Did 
I forget, or fail to mention 
between words, disbelief suspension 
reveals vast fields of recollections?
Viewed between words, verse selections 
put such thoughts properly in places, 
between words, causing smiles on faces 
such as the one you may share 
with careful wearing. People stare, 
and wonder at its cause, the ‘Why’
What Reason between words like ‘Hi’ 
and ‘Art’ can start the impetus within 
those most disposed to bare a grin? 

As you surmise, or could have guessed, 
this is the one thing I do best -
put purpose between each word
one might presume is seen and heard 
in terms specifically defined 
by following along these lines. 

By that, I mean herein applied. 
Your comprehension is relied 
upon to get the gist of it,
to make it fit the sense of it, 
the thing that rings out loud and clear, 
beneath each sound, beyond your fear 
of little things, like bugs and such;
the fact that we don't hug that much; 
and that all we have is all we’ve got. 
It’s not as if we say a lot 
about the things we understand,
the things that must go hand-in-hand 
as compliments to fair use. Terms 
like bugs, an insect, a Bunny, or some germs 
we share because we're just that close. 
Isn’t that funny? It's the most 
delightful way that I can say 
I hope that you enjoy your day, 
despite the fact that I myself 
must spend it off in someplace else 
without you, though that doesn't mean 
either of us should quit the scene. 

That is, until we’ve learned to cope. 
We live in ever present Hope 
that ‘something ventured, something gained’ 
will mean that someday we'll obtain 
a better sense of presence, since 
in present tense, you appear dense!

If I must repeat, again, 
with a Hi! I'm five feet ten, 
and weighted now to give the hunch 
that rarely will I miss my lunch!

Regarding my present density, 
and also my propensity 
for texture, taste, and intonation, 
concept, craft and conflagration 
so intense, and burning bright 
the chances are that you just might 
soon feel my heat, a light injection 
so subtle and close to perfection 
that you'll find it most fascinating 
in that it's all about vaccinating! 

It's a hoot! A laugh! A lark! 
A well thought out SHOT (in the dark). 
It's a plan I had that I'm having still. 
So, begging your pardon, if you will, 
just step right up, and get a thrill 
from what must mostly fit the bill 
as a ‘Madrigal Sum Perspicil’.
a diversion in verse.


Into The Pew

I'd love to lift you up, since I am strong enough in body 
to be of such assistance when you're finished on the potty. 
So, tell me when you're through, and I will do as I have promised. 
Now, rise. Don't be surprised that I should bring up Dylan Thomas
in this auspicious moment. Let thoughts foment, and consider
what is most important when you’re sitting on the shitter.

So I'm just sitting there minding my own business 
when the guy in the next stall starts telling me his 
life story like he's in the confessional, and I'm his 
parish priest, so I said excuse me, I think you have 
me confused with somebody else, and he says no, 
he just needed to talk to somebody but didn't have 
anyone who'd listen or take him more seriously than 
a good healthy shit. So there we were, just sitting 
and talking, and I wish I could tell you what we said, 
but of course that shit is just between me and him.