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.

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. 



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