Prose poetry

When I was in elementary school, the emphasis on poetry was that it ought to follow certain guidelines, contain rhythm, contain rhyme, contain meter and alliteration and metaphor.
In high school, the emphasis changed to "anything goes," but poetry still had a certain look--like broken up lines. It never stayed in tidy paragraphs like prose.

Recently in my French Literature class, we began to discuss poetry. At the beginning of our text were two poems, one a classical French sonnet and one a prose poem. I was skeptical. Prose and poetry never overlapped in my mind. They were two separate entities that did not meet.

However, reading the selection revealed poetic elements: alliteration, metaphor, and a sort of rhyme. Against my prior inclinations, I had to admit that this paragraph was poetry.

La maladie que j’ai me condamne à l’immobilité absolue au lit. Quand mon ennui prend des proportions excessives et qui vont me déséquilibrer si l’on n’intervient pas, voici ce que je fais :
J’écrase mon crâne et l’étale devant moi aussi loin que possible et quand c’est bien plat, je sors ma cavalerie. Les sabots tapent clair sur ce sol ferme et jaunâtre. Les escadrons prennent immédiatement le trot, et ça piaffe, et ça rue. Et ce bruit, ce rythme net et multiple, cette ardeur qui respire le combat et la victoire, enchantent l’âme de celui qui est cloué au lit et ne peut faire un mouvement.
[from La Nuit remue , Henri Michaux. http://www.ada-theatre.com/sections/spectacles/index.php ]