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.

Okay, Dance

The metrics of musical cadence, 
amusingly start when you say Dance, 
as if dancing was one 
of the ways we have fun, 
which is funny, but no coincidence. 


 Okay, 'Dance' does sound real neat
when it makes you move your feet.
When you hear 'OKAY, DANCE' calls, 
sound off loud. Let your foot falls
mark your time ... Oh, Cadence will
make you proud! You're sitting? ... STILL!?!


First, please take a few steps to your lefts
in thoughts here befitting of sitting, as clefts
are now spread, two hemispheres of influence
firing your cylinders, as you try to make sense
of what all these words are trying to convey,
as pertains to your stay in the corps de ballet.

 A thought is brought to eloquence
by chance. A dance with elephants
requires thoughts of big feet. Of course,
I’m just a mouse myself, Love. Horse
around with the nouns my deer, as does
dance and fawn upon poems and prose.