Murder Had A Blood Red

I Wake Up Very Early In The Morning. I Like To Start In The Dark, And I Never Work At Night, Because My Brain Is Evaporated By 4 P.m.

You Save Yourself Or You Remain Unsaved.

No One On The Street Thought Anything Of The Downtown Girl Dressed In Black Who Had Paused In The Middle Of Midtown Foot Traffic. In Her Art Student Camouflage She Could Walk The Entire Length Of Manhattan And, If Not Blend In, Be Classified And Therefore Ignored.

I Mean, If I Went Into My Closet, I Could Find A Previous Draft And Try To Figure That Out, But It Takes A Long Time For Me To Find The Voice To Tell A Story In. I Was Working From Other Points Of View For A Couple Years There.

Everyday He Got Up. Before Sleep Wore Off, He Was Who He Used To Be. Then, As His Consciousness Woke, It Was As If Poison Seeped In. At First He Couldn't Even Get Up. He Lay There Under A Heavy Weight. But Then Only Movment Could Save Him, And He Moved And He Moved And He Moved, No Movement Being Enough To Make Up For It. The Guilt On Him, The Hand Of God Pressing Down On Him, Saying, You Were Not There When Your Daughter Needed You.