Bear-Leg Alan Cheuse

If there’s coffee inside that samovar a fake smile — more of a wince

If Plato if Platonic if there’s a Platonic sort of Platoish Plato vibe here

Fussy sugar bowl, heaped high with hepatitis

Paul “Fussy” Titus and I had a motocross moment together, piggybacked on an amusement, then there came a “gift from the chef”

Rapeseed and hemlock, Vance put a quarter in the free jukebox, the bartender’s face as he watched Vance was a scrim of novelty fake puke,

My father in law’s gastroenteritis flared up on Halloween, just as my favorite writer‘s hard drive failed on the upper east side, while he was stuck somewhere waiting for the A, C, E

My impish sister registered a Twitter account for my grandfather’s pacemaker. @Peacemakerzz

I hoped we cancelled that order before it shipped

Plain song plain wrapper, Barnes and Noble’s / shawarmas in love

ex girlfriend knows bounds

perfect wife brushes an elegant lock of the universe from her eyes

probably gave myself type two diabetes eating leftover Halloween candy

I think she went to Yale

Pressure pretty labial twilight; a hangover in the Metreon is worth two in the Bush administration

My ambition is to eat the rest of this candy and then an hour later eat a hearty normal dinner. His ambition seemed to be to write a masterful novel

The worst kind of writer is a brilliant one; necessary is a euphemism for working-class, intelligence is overrated and superabundant among men and women. If you think most people are stupid I think you’re a part of the problem; Hey these leggings aren’t going to wear themselves, buddy:

A shapeshifting Native American shaman enrolled in our MFA program this afternoon! I can’t wait to read his poems. His name is Bear-Leg. I saw his driver’s license–it said Bear-Leg Alan Cheuse.

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