Alvah Allen

We keep strange hours in strange clocks. Hands that run forward, then backward, or not at all.

So, this morning I came out to find my car had been rifled, tossed, gone through

We’re taking different paths to the same destination, the two of me. One of me has a map of Florida I bought at a gas station, when I thought I liked gas stations.

No city wants to claim us they may have good reasons so we’ll just go unincorporated, totally R.F.D.

They lend themselves better to prose, the ones I know, but that’s not what I do. They are too lovely

for my mother The graceless things you’ve done, all of them. Time you shouldn’t be keeping track of anyway,

The stars were a gap. Everyone who ever looked up needed a story to fill it. No one can explain

When I was a kid real Russians drank cheap vodka, played great chess, and only talked to Americans when they absolutely had to.

In with the little quail and the spare background under the Chinese brush the signature crawls around and works, on a thousand legs lost in detail. --May 2, 2016

Two grown men arguing about “porcelain.” Not the china itself, you understand,

You know what I found when I got to the bottom? The H.M.S. Hood and The Prince of Wales

God, I hate running out of smokes. Then you’ve gotta get up make yourself look presentable and go to the store.

The guy in the light green shirt with the collar turned up at the end of Grease just kills me.

I didn’t even know there were fates but, there are and they’re against us, Anna.

The dogs have to be wondering just what they’ve got themselves into: “Why did we take him in, again? Does he, like, have fleas?

for Philip Verne Sturges The crows are flying black, in our direction. I would say no one knows why but, that’s what I always say

First Pop would take out his pocketknife and cut us off a slice and then it was just a matter of the chewin’ and the chawin’ and the chewin’ and the chawin’. Sweeter…