The Hymns of Hieronymous707
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.
We see the kettle circling
out back. A black and purple ring
descends. The end begins anew.
Our lawn belongs to the venue.
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