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.

Epiphany

Speaking now for just a minute,
as if my world had you within it,
of where we'd be, my world and me,
within this whispered poetry,
and see that we'd be bound by just
time, this rhyme, our faith and trust.

So stop right now, or follow through
step by step. First one, then two
feet advanced by chance and choice
have given my sieve-like mind its voice.

See, this morning I ran myself blue in the face.
I ran myself all the way through the rat race.
I ran until I was completely out of breath,
and learned … that I can run myself to death.

Duh.