It is irresistible in its almost Kantian reminder that there is beauty in all things, especially all things we’ve forgotten. This collection propels the reader in a similar vein. Before you know it, the conversation has ended, the bill has been paid, but you still find yourself wanting to hear more. Imagine sitting alone in a coffee house and eavesdropping on an intimate conversation. What makes Bright Dead Things so remarkable is its constant grab at the readers attention. Of the strange garage, I lifted my skirt and pissedĬonversely, “The Whale and the Waltz Inside of It” answers that there is nothing that separates person from whale:ĭid you know giant whales have a spindle cell
For example, What separates a woman from a pitbull? “Service” say they are the same: I mean “seduces” in every sense of the word, as Limón’s poems are sexy and charged with language meant to awaken. It seduces the reader into finding their own, indigenous power. This strive for power over self and nature occurs again and again. I still want to kill the carrots because I can.
There is magic in the ability to tear living carrots from the ground and still watch them glow neon: In “I Remember the Carrots” the speaker recalls the “bright dead things” of her childhood. Beauty is found in everything from roadkill to the dogs of America, and more importantly, Limón asserts, the self is found in these beautiful things. The narrative writing straddles the accessible and philosophical in a way only a masterful poet can. In the prose poem, “The Quiet Machine” the speaker navigates the quieter parts of the country, by trying to emulate their inwardness:Īnswer the phone, and how I sometimes like to lie down on theįloor in the kitchen and pretend I’m not home when people knock. In a mix of prose and verse poems, an unpretentious verisimilitude evades. We are not mere observers of these wonders, but instead a part of the conversation. Perhaps the most enticing aspect of poems like these is Limón’s ability to pull the reader into the poem. The speaker imagines how it would feel to have the heart of a horse: With a vast scope that takes its readers from Kentucky to Brooklyn and through the gaucheries of youth to the resigned wisdom of womanhood, this collection is a testament to the lasting wonderment of American poetry.Ī seasoned poet having released Lucky Wreck, This Big Fake World, and Sharks in the Rivers, Limón immediately asserts her aplomb in the opening “How to Triumph like a Girl.” In a style reminiscent of Sharon Olds, the poem communicates ideas of feminism and oneness with gusto. In Ada Limón’s “ Miracle Fish,” she beckons her readers to “think of how far a voice must have to travel to go beyond the universe.” Surely, Limón’s Bright Dead Things (2015) is a direct answer to such a command.
0 kommentar(er)
