Joshua Marie Wilkinson was born and raised in Seattle,
and he's the author of two book-length poems, "Suspension
of a Secret in Abandoned Rooms," published in 2005,
and most recently, "Lug Your Careless
Body out of the Careful Dusk," which won the 2005 Iowa Poetry
Prize.
His work has appeared in numerous journals,
and he holds an MFA from the University of Arizona
and an MA in Film Studies from University College Dublin.
Presently, he works as an editor for the Denver Quarterly
and teaches courses in Literature and Creative
Writing at the University of Denver, where he's
completing a PhD in Literature.
A new book of prose, poems, and anthology, a documentary film,
and a book of collaborations with poet Noah Eli Gordon
are all underway.
The poems in "Lug Your Careless Body out of the Careful Dusk"
have a rhythmical suspension, a constant postponing of closure,
which has less to do with the act of finishing
than the act of perceiving.
For Wilkinson, the person perceiving
is more changeable than the object perceived.
For instance, Wilkinson writes, "here, where the poem begins,
ladders again.
The little girl ventured with candy and a
"nearly" on her lips.
The ladder has more permanence in the girl
and offers the possibility not of taking her to another place,
but of bringing her to some other incarnation of herself."
When Wilkinson re-enters a situation,
he does it from the far side, from an unexpected angle.
He writes as though he were traveling through a city
by transposing himself into its many bustling bodies.
An appropriate vantage point for Wilkinson,
given that he writes, "cities are for breaking you
into several people at once."
Please help me in welcoming Joshua.
[APPLAUSE]