SM: If a poem is a house, who answers your doors?
KA: Nobody. If someone tries the doors, he or she will find them unlocked.
SM: Are you a smoker, or as kurt vonnegut put it, a fire on one end and a fool on the other?
KA: If that’s the definition, absolutely.
SM: What’s the last song you wrote a poem to?
KA: “eyesight to the blind,” sung by sonny boy williamson.
SM: What’s your first reaction to complete silence?
KA: To listen for a train.
SM: How is a poet often perceived, as opposed to a fiction writer, artist, musician, etc.?
KA: Poets are like fairies. no one believes in them. if confronted with one, the
ordinary person sees a bottlefly, hears a buzz, and waves it away.
SM: On your website, in your writings section, you send a very clear message to would-be suitors/stalkers who send you unsolicited e-mail. what do you think it is about your work that brings this out in people?
KA: Stalkers generate their own reasons that have nothing to do with me or my work.
SM: T.S. Eliot, C.S. Lewis, and William Blake fall out of the sky into your front yard. What’s the plan for the rest of the day?
KA: Stay in, call a woman friend, & spy on them from the window.
SM: In your writing, is there anything you keep returning to?
KA: The same three or four places I’ve been.
SM: Are most good writers haunted?
KA: All writers are haunted.
SM: Write for us, please, a haiku.
KA: Sorry, I can’t write haiku. Allen Ginsberg invented “American Sentences” in the spirit of haiku & 17 syllables. here’s mine:
There goes our little neighbor,
barefoot, no pants,
fox fur on her shoulders.