I would say some guardian angel somewhere was lookin' down on Baby Ai.

It has been more than a week, since the passing of one of our greatest poets, Ai, author of hard truths and urgently necessary social commentaries.

While those of us who knew Ai may take time in coming to terms with her loss to illness, we will recognize—as she would wish—the Sutta of the mustard seed.

More difficult, for we who survive, is facing the fact that yet another poet, another poet of color, another woman poet of color, has passed with so little recognition by major news media.

It is without hesitation or doubt that our communities will fill the pages of ink and internet publications with fond memories and the strongest of praise for the life and work Ai brought to us.

A revelry in personae poetry—the true gift of adopting another's spirit and voice—is one of the most unique of poetic forms, and this was where Ai was preeminent. That the characters she chose to inhabit remain, in her literature, the emblazoned bold, is the tone abruptly captivating the reader.

Several years ago, I spoke with Ai, about her choices of characters, and her ways of finding meaning in her work, as well as the very personal circumstances which shaped her, prior to becoming professor at Oklahoma State.

Here, we offer a reissue of that conversation, in which Ai speaks about race, poverty, discrimination, spirituality, and joy.

In gratitude to our communities, we at Standards open our pages to our friends and colleagues, to begin building a right tribute to Ai.

Thank you.

C/S,


Canéla A. Jaramillo