“And then of course, there’s Oscar, and who would want to forget that green ball of
matted, goupy, sniggling, far-out smoky substance which permeates the fabric of the
universe; this universe which has no walls, only white paint, standing on its own with
no invisible means of niceness; how about spanking a little green frog.”
“Gee, I’m not sure if this is going to work; I mean, are you really sure about this contraption? Dig a little deeper, Finkie; then you will see the time which I often go between when around I come, to forget the future of this woe-begotten race of ex-communicators, with a small dash of pepper.”
“ ‘Johnny come-early’ was a wee little boy who liked to ‘wee’ in his wee little pants, to make them a wee bit wet, and his father would get a wee bit mad, and whip his wee little bottom. ‘Wee, wee’, went Johnny, as he cried to the rhythm of a beatless song that echoed in the infinite space which was occupied only by his wee wee.”
“Gee, I’m not sure if this is going to work; I mean, are you really sure about this contraption? Dig a little deeper, Finkie; then you will see the time which I often go between when around I come, to forget the future of this woe-begotten race of ex-communicators, with a small dash of pepper.”
“ ‘Johnny come-early’ was a wee little boy who liked to ‘wee’ in his wee little pants, to make them a wee bit wet, and his father would get a wee bit mad, and whip his wee little bottom. ‘Wee, wee’, went Johnny, as he cried to the rhythm of a beatless song that echoed in the infinite space which was occupied only by his wee wee.”
1. The exact date of writing is unknown. The text above was copied from “My Little
Pink Book”. It was among dated writings from July 1990.
2. This title is the longest title of any poem I’ve written, at 111 characters (including
spaces). It is 33 characters longer than the next-longest title, which is
Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now That I Still Haven’t
Found What I’m Looking For.
3. It’s been suggested to me that this is actually short fiction rather than poetry.
However, I urge anyone to check any modern definition of poetry and attempt to prove that this
isn’t a poem.
4. Following is a photo of the page in “My Little Pink Book”:
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