About (I pretend to write post-modern-pre-neolithic poems)
While Wally willfully withstood whispering winds, wretched waves willowed Wally’s waning writ.
(I also pretend to write short stories)
The monkey stood up.
"The monkey moved," Hanson remarked.
"Oh, you clever fool," Dr. Finalee said with red, angry eyes, "always puzzling, always thinking. You think too much, little one."
The monkey ate his banana.
"There he goes again," Hanson boorishly said.
"That’s it," started Dr. Finalee, his voice strained and nervous, as if he was the monkey himself, stuck between the two pillars of electricity in a moat of twenty-seven sharks. "I will finish him today," Dr. Finalee murmured t