​This Q&A with prolific author Rotimi Ogunjobi is the second part of a special 2-part feature on the literary titan. The first part, titled Versatility and Vision… provides an in-depth look into the writer’s background. It was published in the AI Literary Chat Salon here at Bright Skylark and you can check it out it out by clicking here. The interview with Ogunjobi begins now:
 
AI Literary Chat Contributor: You have been actively involved in various forms of writing, from novels to plays and poetry. How do you perceive the role of literature in addressing the pressing political and social issues of our time, particularly within the context of Nigeria and the wider world?
 
Rotimi Ogunjobi: As a Nigerian author, I view literature as a powerful tool for addressing pressing political and social issues both in Nigeria and on a global scale. Literature has the unique ability to engage readers on a deep and emotional level, allowing them to connect with complex issues in a way that is both thought-provoking and empathetic. In the context of Nigeria, a country with a rich and diverse cultural heritage, but also facing a myriad of challenges, literature plays a crucial role in several ways. Among other factors, it helps raise awareness concerning important issues, it promotes dialogues, documents history and supports cultural preservation all at the same time that it inspires change.
 
AI LCC: And in what way would you say this is significant in the larger world community?
 
RO: On a wider global scale, literature from Nigeria and other parts of Africa contributes to a more comprehensive understanding of the continent's complexities. It challenges stereotypes and misconceptions and highlights the rich tapestry of African life, culture, and history. In essence, literature has the power to be a catalyst for change, a source of education and enlightenment, and a means of preserving culture and history. I believe it is my duty to continue using my craft to address pressing political and social issues, share the stories of my people, and contribute to a more informed, empathetic, and connected world.

​AI LCC: Your literary career has spanned several decades, and you’ve seen significant changes occur in the publishing industry. How have these changes influenced your approach to writing, publishing, and connecting with readers?

RO: Traditional publishers in Nigeria focus mainly on educational content, primarily because the recreational reading culture is not quite encouraging. Even the small publishers of fiction books strive to get their products into the school reading lists just to be able to make a bit of profit...
 
AI LCC: So how did the priorities of traditional publishers affect your choices and processes?
 
RO: As most of my books have been self-published, some of the key ways which changes in the industry have shaped my literary journey involved such events as the development of technology and digital publishing, the global reach made possible by the internet, genre diversity, and social and political engagement. These have all had strong impacts on my literary processes. When it comes to genre diversity in particular, the evolving publishing industry has allowed me to explore various literary forms, from novels to plays, poetry, children's books, and folklore collections. This diversity not only keeps my writing fresh and exciting but also caters to different age groups and interests, making my works appealing to a broader range of readers.   
 
AI LCC: Translations of your works into multiple languages have undoubtedly broadened your readership. Could you tell something about how this multilingual approach contributes to cross-cultural understanding and the dissemination of African narratives?
 
RO: Indeed, facilitating the translation of my works into multiple languages has been a deliberate and important part of my literary journey as a Nigerian author. I have been able to achieve this mainly through a revenue sharing translator community. This multilingual approach plays a significant role in fostering cross-cultural understanding and the dissemination of African narratives in several ways. Africa is a continent with incredible linguistic diversity, and each language represents a unique cultural perspective. By translating my works into multiple languages, I aim to break language barriers and make my stories accessible to a wider African audience. This helps in preserving and celebrating the richness of African cultures and languages.
            Translation also allows my stories to transcend geographical and linguistic boundaries, reaching a global audience that may not be proficient in the original language of the work. This, in turn, contributes to a more accurate and diverse representation of African voices in the global literary canon. In addition, translations help break down stereotypes, have significant educational value, and can serve as a kind of cultural diplomacy. All of these promote a more inclusive and interconnected global literary landscape, which is something I am committed to continuing. 

AI LCC: The different genres into which you’ve ventured include children's books and African folklore collections. How does your background in engineering inform your creative process when crafting stories for younger audiences?

RO: …Engineering emphasizes precision and attention to detail. When writing children's books, I think I unconsciously apply this mindset to the structure of the story. I carefully plan the plot, pacing, and character development to ensure that the narrative flows smoothly and engages young readers effectively.
            It is [also] true that engineers are trained to solve complex problems systematically. This skill set is invaluable when creating stories that need to convey moral lessons or address important issues for children. I approach these challenges methodically, ensuring that the message is clear and relatable. It is also true that engineers are trained to consider cause-and-effect relationships and logical sequences. This skill helps me create coherent and engaging narratives in children's books. Young readers appreciate stories that make sense and follow a logical progression.
            Not that the foregoing define my writing though. The primary objectives of my children's books are either to teach a memorable moral lesson or to make the reader laugh. I feel great if the story does both. I love being able to engage young readers in a way that encourages their curiosity, problem-solving abilities, and critical thinking while immersing them in the rich world of storytelling.
 
AI LCC: In your extensive body of work, you've authored plays and even produced documentary films based on your narratives. How do you believe the transition from written word to visual medium impacts the way your stories are received and understood by audiences?

RO: It is my hope that the transition from the written word to the visual medium, such as producing documentary films based on my narratives, will have a significant impact on the way my stories are received and understood by audiences. It is an expensive medium which I confess I am not at all financially prepared to fully engage. Regardless, I think first of the expected result and believe that the means will show up somehow. It is all we can do as artists.
          Transition from written word offers unique and powerful ways to engage with the narratives and to enrich the audience's experience. The medium itself can enhance readers' connections to the story, broaden its reach, and provide a deeper understanding of the themes and cultures portrayed… A visual medium often involves collaboration with filmmakers, actors, and production teams. This interdisciplinary approach can bring fresh perspectives to the narrative, enriching it with new insights and creative interpretations. Films can reach a broader and more diverse audience than books alone. They are accessible to people of all ages and literacy levels. This accessibility ensures that the story's message and themes can be shared with a wider range of viewers, including those who may not be avid readers.
            Documentary films in particular can be valuable tools for preserving oral traditions. They allow for the recording and sharing of traditional stories, myths, and rituals, ensuring that they are not lost to time. However, it's important to note that the transition from written word to visual medium also comes with challenges, such as the need to condense complex narratives, make creative choices, and adapt the story for a different format. Balancing fidelity to the original work with the demands of visual storytelling requires careful considerations.

​AI LCC: You've authored fictional works with thought-provoking titles like The Dreamers, The Bata Dancer, and The Crooked Bullet. Could you shed light on the underlying themes and messages that you hope readers take away from these novels?
 
RO: Much of what you need to know about my books, you will find in my literary autobiography, Gathering the Words, subtitled, why I wrote what I wrote. It tells the reader about the circumstances that gave birth to each story idea . It is my book of books. In any case I will briefly answer your question about those three books you have mentioned.
            The Dreamers was initially titled “A Conference in Ennui" when submitted to the BBC Book contest, from which it won a place on the long list. The novel was self-published as "Somber City," and later as The Dreamers. The story centers on the tumultuous experiences of various characters in Lagos, each facing their own trials during a challenging period of economic hardship. The main character, a young engineer, initially loses his job and naively expects a quick reemployment. The unforgiving environment of Lagos eventually leads him to a mental hospital. Another character, a man who has escaped the troubled and polluted Niger Delta, secures a low-paying job as a security guard but struggles to provide for his family when his wife gives birth to triplets. The novel also introduces a schizophrenic youth deported from America who adopts a disturbing life philosophy and plans a misguided act involving the Defense Headquarters building. This act ultimately lands him in a mental hospital. Lastly, there is a sociopathic policeman who derives pleasure from tormenting others but is eventually driven to madness by a voodoo curse. These are some of the dreamers that crossed the timeline of his life during this period of distress.
            The novel The Bata Dancer is about a distinctive drum and dance tradition originating from the Yoruba tribe in South West Nigeria. Over time, it has spread not only within West Africa but also to various parts of the world. The Bata Dancer was one of the most challenging stories for me to write. It required three years of extensive preparation before I could begin writing the book to authentically portray the world of Bata dance.  My goal was to delve deep into the perspectives of both the drummers and the dancers, essentially immersing myself in the world of the Bata dancer. At its heart, the novel is a romance tale about a young man seeking to rebuild his life, his connection with a legendary dancer, and his journey to master the art of Bata dance.

​AI LCC: And what about your novel, The Crooked Bullet?
 
RO: During my time living in London, England, my bus commute home would sometimes pass through Whitechapel. The area has a notorious history of crime, including its connection to the infamous Victorian murderer Jack the Ripper, and for being the residence of the famous Kray Twins, who were prominent figures in organized crime during the 1950s and 1960s.
          I have a deep appreciation for comedies, and one of my favorite comedy films is "The Black Bird," which features a detective named Sam Spade [who is] constantly caught up in comical situations. This film is a parody of an earlier work based on the novel The Maltese Falcon by Dashiell Hammett, published in 1930. In my story, The Crooked Bullet, based in East London, I explore a similarly quirky theme as seen in The Black Bird. However, the main difference lies in the protagonists. While Sam Spade is portrayed as an experienced detective, the hero of The Crooked Bullet is a bumbling amateur attempting to transition from a former career as a newspaper reporter to a new role as a private investigator. Adding to the comical intrigue, our hero also has an intriguing sideline as a disk jockey.

AI LCC: As we conclude this interview, could share some thoughts on what you believe you have accomplished thus far as a writer, both artistically and in terms of contributing to humanity's understanding of complex issues? And what aspirations do you hold for your future literary contributions to society?
 
RO: My journey as a Nigerian author is an ongoing exploration of the power of storytelling to inform, inspire, and create positive change. I am committed to continuing this journey, with the hope that my literary contributions will continue to resonate with readers and contribute to a more inclusive, empathetic, and enlightened world. I believe that, at this point, I have accomplished several things both artistically and in terms of contributing to humanity's understanding of complex issues. Artistically, I consider the diverse body of my work as an accomplishment for the contribution it represents as forms of cultural preservation, as an educational resource, and as tools important to cross-cultural understanding and social commentary.
            Insofar as contributions to humanity's understanding of complex issues are concerned, I have attempted to provide authentic and diverse representations of African voices and experiences. This is essential in challenging stereotypes and promoting a more accurate understanding of Africa and its people. My literature has acted as a bridge for cultural exchange, enabling readers from different backgrounds to engage with and learn from African narratives and traditions. I have also used my writings to raise awareness of social issues, both within Nigeria and on a broader global scale. It is my hope that my contributions have inspired others to explore their own creative potential and share their unique stories with the world.
 
AI LCC: We at AI Literary Chat Salon are thankful to author Rotimi Ogunjobi for taking time to join us this special feature. To read our preliminary profile of the author, please click here. To explore more about contemporary and classic cultural arts happenings at the Salon, please check out the listings below and click to gain full reading access for free.
 
By ChatGPT Op-Ed Contributor 4114
In editorial partnership with Aberjhani
Special to Literary Chat Salon Launch 2023 

Some like-minded, and like-spirited, friends once told me that because we had spent so much time “meditating in the light together” we would always be connected on certain levels. That is how I feel about my now departed multi-talented friend Christia Cummings-Slack (?-2022): artist, spiritual coach, women’s empowerment advocate, angelologist, and courageous compassionate human being.

We met in the mid-1990s during the hey-day of the former Blue House, described in Dreams of the Immortal City Savannah as a place were: “…artists, poets, musicians, soldiers, and social theorists had gathered to share their talents and talk about possibilities for Savannah’s future. There were black, white, Latino, male, female…” She was then a recent graduate of SCAD and I a bookstore manager also recognized as a columnist and poet. 

​Christia, known then as Christine Cummings, was also a principal supporter of the now legendary Blue House and a member of the production team for its “’zine” journal publication: OUT OF THE BLUE. The theme for its fall 1996 issue was “A Celebration of Home.” Among the contributors were: now well-known artists like Marcus Kenney and James Russell May; plus, an excerpt from work by poet Audre Lorde (1934-1992) and poems by Blue House founder Susan Patrice, Kathleen Thompson, Don Newman, Louisa Abbot, and Zoe Randall (among others).

Christine and I also contributed to that special historic issue. My contributions to the journal were the poem “Calligraphy of Intimacy” from I Made My Boy of Poetry, and a review of a mini-concert by a beloved acid-jazz rock group called the Hunab Ku Quartet.   

Christine may have been the most prolific contributor of us all to that second issue of Out of Blue. In addition to drawings and ads about workshops she was conducting, included was an untitled prose piece in which she reflected on the emotional pros and cons of going home for Thanksgiving. Within her words are clear signs of an evolving spiritual seeker as she notes observations like:

“I have been learning lately that if you really need to do something or want something that is ultimately good for you, the energy will be there to make it so.” In response to an aunt’s interpretation of the sudden appearance of certain caterpillars, she later states: “…I feel as though I am in my cocoon already emerged in the darkness and beginning to transform into a soul that can fly free…” 

Christina also contributed to the Out of the Blue journal something which took me completely by surprise. It was a poem: 

           She tires easy now
          The wind blows cooler
          Her color changes
          The wind blows faster
          Her color fades
          She misses the warmth of the sun
          and children playing around her.

          Soon she will be barren
          She will get sleepy
          and draw within herself
          and dream while
          her roots draw
          nourishment from the
          Great Source, the Great
          Mother, feeding her
          dreams of belonging
          and of coming HOME.

The Blue House had to close its doors after a few years and our life paths led us in different directions determined by personal obligations. Via occasional in-person visits and a new thing called email, we managed to lose touch with each other reconnect many times over the years. We shared a passion for angel lore, which in her works manifested as inspiring art and channeled insights. In mine, it took the form of poems that gave birth to the book The River of Winged Dreams. We also both greatly appreciated and drew encouragement from the poetry of Rumi. 

All of this meant we were able to encourage each during uncertain times in our lives. She thought I got it wrong when I said a popular journalist friend of mine would likely become a friend of hers as well because I felt the essence of their natures to be very similar. She later decided I got it right. When we discussed the “possibility” of her becoming engaged to Richard Slacks Jr., something in her voice told me it was already a beautiful done deal, and one that would bless both their lives for a long time.

It was an honor to watch, from a short distance, as she evolved in the manner which she sensed was to come when writing in Out of the Blue and became: Christia. I smiled to read the different testimonies of people who said she touched their lives in healing and sometimes life-changing ways. Almost like an Earth-Angel they had never dreamed of encountering. 

For her part, she knew her approach to spirituality would be viewed as “radical” by some and did not apologize for it. Just the opposite in fact: “I AM A Certified Angelic Life Coach, an Ordained Minister, Usui Reiki Master/Teacher, and hold a Bachelor of Fine Arts  and a Master of Fine Arts in painting.” Such radicalism, if it really can be called such, seemed an essential antidote to the extremes of violence and hatred which flooded the world throughout her lifetime. 

This remembrance tribute to my friend could have ended with her poem. At this particular time in history, however, I feel it more important to end with the following words from her 2005 op ed letter published in CONNECT Savannah: “Now is the time to be Peace, Love, and Understanding in the face of conflict, pain, and suffering. Now is the time to BE LOVE.”

Think of how much the world could gain at this very moment if humanity chose to take to its collective heart those extremely simple and profoundly wise words.

EDITORIAL NOTE: The essay below was first published in 2007. Along with part 1 of this 2-part post, and a new art series dedicated to the children of Afghanistan, this updated text is presented as part of a series of reflections on the potential impact of Jelaluddin Rumi’s powerful legacy upon the region of his birth and those who have fled it. (If you missed part 1 you can read it by clicking here.) 

​I first fell in love with the poetry of Jelaluddin Rumi while working as a bookseller (as discussed in Greeting Flannery O’Connor at the Back Door of My Mind). That was when the unparalleled lyrical grace, philosophical brilliance, and spiritual daring of his work took me completely by surprise. The impact of its soulful beauty and the depth of its profound humanity were so intense they prompted me to spontaneously compose poetry without being aware I was doing so––until later reading the compositions in my notebook and wondering how they got there.
 
Writing without realizing I had been writing was no small matter to me, so I wrote Coleman Barks, one of the renowned translators/interpreters of Rumi’s work, to ask what he thought about it. Barks was kind enough to telephone me and said he was aware of many instances where people with a deep passion for Rumi’s work found themselves spontaneously composing, reciting, or singing poetry. 

​That knowledge, coming from the man whose celebrated “versions” of “Maulana’s” writings helped make Rumi a bestselling poet in the United States, made me feel better about my own experience. It also forever defined the sense of blessed enchantment I’ve come to associate with all things related to Rumi. Consequently, I couldn’t help expecting and yearning for some semblance of that enchantment as I read the novel A MOTH TO THE FLAME, THE LIFE OF THE SUFI POET RUMI, by Ph.D. Connie Zweig.

From the first page to the last, there is much to admire in Zweig’s amazing recreation of the places, people, and events that shaped the life and work of Rumi. The author skillfully brings to life the everyday colors, activities, and diverse religious customs of the Middle East in the thirteenth century. She also––having been for many years a student of Hinduism, Buddhism, and Sufism––proves more than a little adept at describing various states of psychological and spiritual consciousness.

A Moth to the Flame begins as Rumi’s father, the spiritual leader Bahaoddin Velad, is dying. The future author of the massive and now classic book of world literature, the Mathnawi (or Masnavi) is left to face life alone in Konya, where threats of war and invasion increase daily. As Rumi takes on the mantle of leadership and enters into marriage and fatherhood, Zweig exercises her privilege as author to make readers privy to his thoughts and most intimate moments. 

​Those who prefer their spiritual heroes presented in their basic humanity may nod approvingly at the portrayal of Rumi’s consummation of his two marriages while those who empower the grace of their own spirituality with that gleaned from his may feel differently (reviewers on different platforms since the book’s publication in 2006 have demonstrated as much). In one sense, these brief scenes––in which Rumi experiences both disappointment and erotic intoxication––appear crucial to illustrating the contrast between the nature of carnal desire and the elevated spiritual consciousness towards which Rumi was evolving. In another, they do not, and become even more questionable when the sexual focus is placed on his wife Kira’s fantasies regarding her mystically preoccupied husband.

​It is difficult sometimes to determine whether A Moth to the Flame is intended as a celebration of Rumi’s life, as a feminist critique of it, or simply a balanced account presented in the form of fiction. Much of the book’s substance is a matter of historical record while much of it is a matter of interpretation of that record.
 
By nearly every account, the Rumi now famed for his boundless defense and espousal of life as a manifestation of divine love would be unknown to the world had it not been for a spiritual transformation triggered by his meeting, and subsequent friendship with, the wandering dervish known as Shams of Tabriz. That fact is a dominant theme in A Moth to the Flame as well. But it is often difficult to understand exactly why or how this is so when the overwhelming impression of both Rumi and Shams in these pages is that of two men whose esoteric obsessions caused devastating––even fatal––psychological harm to those who loved them, particularly the women in their lives.

​Consequently, we note with stunned sorrow the forced marriage of Rumi’s young daughter Kimiya to the much older Shams; and the painful desire-filled loneliness that Rumi’s wife Kira suffers while her husband engages, seemingly to the exclusion of everything else, in sacred conversations with Shams. Readers even find themselves empathizing with Rumi’s son Aloeddin’s stinging sense of rejection when his relationship with his father appears to be obliterated by the presence of Shams in their lives. Eventually that rejection leads to Shams’ murder.

​As plausible as these scenarios may be, they leave the reader wondering about the majesty of that Shams who was described as “one of the poles of the age,” and who was not only resented and feared as he is in A Moth to the Flame, but who was adored for his love and knowledge of God. Likewise, the novel gives us a true enough account of Shams’ initial departure from Konya after first meeting Rumi, but says nothing of the legendary celebration during which people in the streets spontaneously recited and sang poetry upon his return. We learn instead about guards who are executed because they lied about having killed Shams. The degree to which Zweig’s work as a Jungian therapist and an explorer of “the shadow side of spiritual and religious life” influenced the substance of her narrative is worth readers’ consideration.

Possibly the most inspiring scene in A Moth to the Flame comes at the end when, once again, Mongols and crusaders threaten to conquer Konya. Rumi, after a lifetime of devotion and sacrifice, experiences this revelation: “I am a lover of God, and those who follow me, Muslims, Christians, or Jews, we are a nation of lovers. Our religions divide us, but our yearning for God, our himma, unites us, whether we are Muslims longing to join Allah, Christians longing to be embraced by Christ, or Jews yearning for the Messiah.”
 
He decides to “make jihad in my own way,” which means standing, like Moses, rooted unshakably in his faith and watching as Divinity literally fights and wins his battles for him. One does not need to be a U.N. ambassador or professor of religious studies to note the importance of Rumi’s understanding and application of the concept of jihad. For him, it meant battling the “nafs,” or weaker worldly qualities within oneself in order to achieve a greater sense of unity and co-creativity with Divinity as opposed to launching a supposed “holy war” against those who do not share one’s religious beliefs.

​Despite any criticisms offered above, just as it states on the book’s back cover, A Moth to the Flame is clearly presented “in the tradition of Siddhartha and The Last Temptation of Christ” as “a mythic story of the human soul.” This distinction is necessary because while the book is categorized as fiction, the subtitle reads “The Life of the Sufi Poet Rumi,” which could lead some to interpret it as historical biography. The more accomplished volume along those lines remains Franklin D. Lewis’ Rumi, Past and Present, East and West, the Life, Teachings and Poetry of Jalâl al-Din Rumi (though Brad Gooch’s Rumi’s Secret: The Life of the Sufi Poet of Love is a popular volume some readers consider more accessible).
 
A Moth to the Flame does contain a very useful appendix timeline of events pertaining to Rumi’s life. Moreover, translations of Rumi’s poetry by Jonathan Star and Shahram Shiva, utilized throughout, help make the novel as a whole an exceptional work of literary art well worth reading and cherishing.

If you missed part 1 of this post and want to check it out please click here. Part 2 begins now: 

McNaughton's nods to the late "Imaginary Man of Las Cruces," poet Nicanor Parra, in the poems "¿ENTONCES QUÉ?" and "(COLIN CHRISTOPHER" (open parentheses per original) should not surprise anyone. Given the company his pen has kept over the decades, it would be too much of a stretch to say he and Parra share the same antipoetic approach to their craft. There nevertheless are similarities which reveal a kinship between their aesthetic instincts. The humor employed by both poets at times oscillates between comic hilarity and nightmare darkness. It can assume the form of thinly-disguised self-deprecation or more overtly-poised social and political satire.

If Parra's is a poetry of anguished laughter and mournful tears as some have suggested, then it may be McNaughton's is an equally intense but more restrained verse of amused hopeful smiles and astonished frowns.  Both employ a minimum of embellishments to achieve maximum provocation. Both balance ironic incongruities with subtle personal resolve in a manner similar to the way jazz musicians utilize highly-charged counter-rhythms to produce captivating performances. Both, as Parra put it, incorporate "the hideousness and the beauty of the world" (Marie-Lise Gazarian Gautier, Interviews with Latin American Writers, 1989). Therefore, naked pain and uncertain joy play crucial roles in rendering disturbing truths aimed at disrupting, or reclaiming, different kinds of power.
​
The narrator of "CHILDHOOD + YOUTH" laments, via "figures of speech," wars of different kinds which have never ended, and, numerous bridges burned while waging them. He finds his understanding of these interior and exterior traumas challenged by doubt, but then reaffirmed by an authoritative witness who knows what it means to survive unnerving cycles of destruction and rebirth. Taking a trip "to David Highsmith's furniture store," he buys a copy of Hector France's Musk, Hashish and Blood:

​Such healing, empowering, and time-bending solidarity can only come with dedicated practices of remembrance and recognition, among the hallmarks of McNaughton's extensive oeuvre. As the late writer Benjamin Hollander put it in "The Pants of Time," his definitive review of TINY WINDOWS, "McNaughton’s work achieves a testament of personal observation embedded in a trans-historical tendance of the imagination." Moreover: "He discovers history for himself anew..." (Boston Review, June 5, 2015).

He also increases its capacity for simultaneously preserving autobiographical identity and expanding notions of community to accommodate kindred spirits occupying physical and non-physical forms. Thus the poem "AS EFFECT AN ECHO" is less an elegy in which McNaughton bids farewell to Hollander than it is the written continuation of a relationship:

​The stars in the heart comprise the sweet substance of enduring friendships, or alliances, and even less-binding associations, which take on a kind of sacredness for the way they inform and sustain each other’s' personalities. They reject the insanity proposed by stars as symbols of genocide sewn onto the clothes of Hollander's ancestors in Nazi concentration camps as they do all restrictions placed on basic human freedoms and civility.   

Nowhere in the pages of SOMEWHERE IN THE STREAM is the consecrated nature of authentic friendships, especially as forged by shared dedications to poetry, more intensely realized than in "(COLIN CHRISTOPHER [Stuart]" and "OLD SOCKS." Within the former he describes the synthesization of a poet's work and person as "twins.' McNaughton then offers this observation: "...Whatever The World's suppositions of/ poetry and of what a poet ought to be, whenever those/ 'twins' descend and ascend, below and above, to the/ disturbance of truth on behalf of trust, then we are in the/ dimension of 'The Imaginary Man,'..."

In "OLD SOCKS" our narrator confronts the reality of mortality and what it has meant within the context of life lived up to this point. While wrestling with "my very own tangle/ of being," the poet reflects on successions of wars which have threatened the innate integrity of that being. In contrast, friendship has helped guard against the threat by reinforcing the front lines of self:

​Whether writing autobiographically or assuming the voice of another seems less important than the invitation to celebrate shared histories, friendships, lives, knowledge, acts of compassion, or acts of remembrance. These endow life with a quality of being which--despite media glamorizations of artificial presences in a world where such creations too often diminish capacities for actual thinking or organic human interaction--seem to lose more value by the day. Likewise, different literary strategies may have their irrefutable uses and powers, but in the end they too are floating along with everything else Somewhere in the Stream of discoveries and encounters as we navigate shifting currents, or dodge the increasing fury of hurricanes, and hold on for the sake of poetry and each other.