WA: I am fascinated by the river which is knowledge. Everything flows, the mating cycles of sea turtles, architecture in the colonial Andes, dictatorship within the circuitry of the old Soviet Empire, palpable life in the oceans of Europa… For instance, I was sitting in my reading room one late afternoon and became fascinated by a momentary dust beam, a thin ray of light which illuminated particles of dust, dreamlike, without transition opened up a National Geographic sitting next to me, and opened to an article on Albania. The trance of the dust beam transmuted to language which symbiotically meshed with Albania and its experience with its long term dictator Enver Hoxha. Which resulted in my poem Albania & The Death of Enver Hoxha. In this sense I remain unchartable even in terms of my own recollection. One stays in a state of what I would term poetic alertness. It is, of course hearing at the level of nths, of constantly wafting like a hawk in an ozone of savour, which, when combined, with natural curiosity, the unexpected transpires.