Only a few cars. "That's good," he thought. He kindly greets the familiar faces who have grown accustomed to his visits. He sits at the booth, the same booth he's been using for ten years, and ritually places his notebook and pens and orders a coffee. Tonight he also orders a Rooty Tooty Fresh and Fruity. Surrounded by other midnight prophets at the International House of Pancakes, the writer smoothes out his paper and takes a breath, and releases the velociraptors abounding in his head. "I Bleed in Ink and Lead" is a collection of poetry and prose written over the span of ten years from the...