I'm Not A Character In

I've Never Worked For A Newspaper. I've Had Some Very Bad Reviews In Newspapers.

I Love New York, Even Though It Isn't Mine, The Way Something Has To Be, A Tree Or A Street Or A House, Something, Anyway, That Belongs To Me Because I Belong To It.

So The Days, The Last Days, Blow About In A Memory, Hazy Autumnal, All Alike As Leaves: Until A Day Unlike Any Other I've Lived

It Was The Most Haunting Room I've Ever Seen. Because You Know What's In It? All The Left­overs, All The Paraphernalia That The Different Condemned Men Had Had With Them In The "holding" Cells.

[y]outh Is Hardly Human: It Can't Be, For The Young Never Believe They Will Die...especially Would They Never Believe That Death Comes, And Often, In Forms Other Than The Natural One.