If it's OK with you, I'm going to start off with a poem
by another poet.
I found out the sad news that a poet that I know passed away,
the poet Nick Carbó.
Nick was a Filipino-American poet.
And Nick came to Pittsburgh, where I was getting my MFA
at the University of Pittsburgh many,
many years ago when I was in my 20s.
And I was a young poet and very unsure of myself.
And Nick was extremely generous and warm and kind and supportive
and stayed in touch over the years,
in fact, contacting me to congratulate me
when I received this prize.
And so I want to read a Nick Carbó poem this evening
to start off.
For my friend who complains he can't dance
And has a severe case of writer's block
Then take this tambourine inside the sheep barn
Listen to the anaconda's intestines
The shark's walking stick
Learn the river insect's secret neon calligraphy
Swim through Frida Kahlo's hair
And come out smelling like orchids
Lift your appetite towards the certified blue turtle
Feast on Garcia Lorca's leather shoes
And taste the sun, the worms of Andalusia
Don't hesitate in front of a donut
A Ferris wheel, the Crab Nebula
Excavate diamond-eyed demons
Chaucer's liver, Minoan helmets
Paste Anne Sexton's face on $1,000 bill
And purchase a dozen metaphors
Beware of the absolute scorpion
The iguana with the limping leg
Permit indwelling
White words around the eyes
The confrontation of windows
Never feed your towel to the alligator
He will eat you and eat you and eat you.
Nick Carbó.
[APPLAUSE]
Thank you, Nick.
Thank you.