Bright Dead Things: Poems

Bright Dead Things is art on paper, it is painting with words. Limón’s sermonic deliverance of snapshots of her life in poetic form tug at the raw emotions we experience when dealing with love, loss, and life. In “The Quiet Machine” Limón says “then there’s the silence that comes back, a million times bigger than me, sneaks into my bones and wails and wails and wails until I can’t be quiet anymore.” Hinting to the buried angst and complacency we may all experience at one point or another that will eventually unearth itself. Limón devotes a large section of Bright Dead Things to the loss of her step-mom in an anguished and heart wrenching assembly of poems. In “The Riveter” she says, See, our job was simple: keep on living. Her job was harder, the hardest. Her job, her work, was to let the machine of survival breakdown, Lending a stark reminder of the realities of sickness and death that swiftly invokes feelings of empathy and compassion for her and her family during that time. Death makes an appearance in many forms throughout this book, like in “The Long Ride” when she says “I bet that horse might have wanted to / die before he died.” Unsurprising though, with a name like Bright Dead Things. The theme of landscape, wilderness, and wildlife dominate the pages of this National Book Critics Circle and National Book Award finalist. Limón gives a humanness to nature while simultaneously giving an organic wildness to herself. In “The Rewilding” Limón says, “I don’t want to be only the landscape: the bones buried” and in “Mowing” she says “I wish I could be silent more, be more tree than anything else, less clumsy and loud, less crow, more cool white pine,” tying her self-depiction directly to things of the land. Limón takes special care to masterfully pay homage to history and the origins of places she has been and things she has seen. In “During The Impossible Age of Everyone’’ she says “There are so many people who’ve come before us, / arrows and wagon wheels, obsidian tools, buffalo.” Or in “Trick of the Light” when she says “Now, there are no oranges at all in the whole / of San Fernando Valley, no oranges, just names // of streets: Orange Boulevard, Orange County. / The way we do. Naming what’s no longer there.” Gently forcing the reader to examine the impact we have made on our surroundings, human or otherwise, over the years, Ambivalence rings loud throughout Limón’s poems as she moves from state to state expressing feelings of loneliness and enthusiasm concurrently. In “Nashville After Hours” Limón says “the bully girl who / kicked you out of the city is no one, no rotten / crumb left, just a dizzy river of nonsense.” Then in “The Problem with Travel” she says “but I want to be / who I am, going where / I’m going, all over again.” Limón acquaints the reader with the ebbs and flows that come with moving to a foreign city that looks drastically different than the one you came from before and the eager nervousness that may follow along for the ride. Jumping from calamity to calm, from mayhem to tranquility, Limón keeps us in a vulnerable yet curious state as we journey with her through the happenings of her life and the profound emotions that accompany being human. Limón seamlessly intertwines whimsical, abstract ideas with very real, tangible cognitions like in “The Other Wish” as she compares life to a lightbulb saying “what’s your brilliant glaring wattage? // What do you dare to gleam out and reflect?” Limón’s brilliant writing makes way for unforgettable imagery making Bright Dead Things not only an easy read but a must read.

Bright Dead Things is a collection of poems by Ada Lemon, and they depict various parts of her life split into four chapters. In this book we get the beautiful ambiguity that poetry is known for, but what ties each poem together is the prominent themes throughout the book. The most powerful and observant themes are that of change whether that be of location, emotions, or physical. This get’s illustrated by Limon being placed in a new environment, and she notes how different the setting is compared to her previous one. She uses animals and landscapes to highlight what these changes are, and how she compares to them. This is really prominent in the first two chapters where she focuses on her move to another state. We get poems of orchards, horse races, and going out on dates. A theme that corresponds with the theme of change but stands on its own is the theme of heartbreak. Chapter two gives us insights on her breakup while the third tells us about the loss of her mother. What I really enjoyed was Limon’s constant depiction that change was this brute, relentless force that’s inevitable. But this wasn’t due to these monolithic catastrophes that only specific people can relate, rather it was breakups, the loss of a family member and moving that was the focus which gave everything a relatable touch. A small detail that I noticed and adored was seeing the confidence in Limon’s self-image grow over the book. In the beginning she writes lines that make her seem timid or weak, but with a desire to be stronger. Towards the middle has lines that allude to us that she’s ready to empower herself despite her circumstances. Then in the last chapter we get these declarations of self-positivity. A favorite of mine was this line in her poem Service which was “Girl, no one’s going to tell me/ when to take a leak, when to bow down,/ when not to bite. So, right then, in the dim lights of the strange garage, I lifted my skirt and pissed/ like the hard bitch I was.”/. Lines like these that sprinkled throughout the last chapter really solidify the transformation that Limon went through and gives the book a narrative that comes to its completion. Let’s take a look at one of Limon’s poems titled The Whale and the Waltz Inside of it. This poem is not only one of my favorites from the book but also one that captures the ideas of change I’ve mentioned. It starts off with three images that the poem focuses on ;moving to places such as Alaska, whales ,and a woman going out on her own. They each intertwine with one another, sometimes cutting each other off. While this may seem like several separate ideas, they actually work together to create the point about how the author feels about the change of location. I think this becomes clear on page 83 where she tells an anecdote of a woman traveling to Alaska and using a goat for a potential offering to hostile bears. She uses this story of animals and traveling to compare it to how lost one can feel and needs the experience of others to know it’s a safe path. Here’s an excerpt from the poem: What I mean is: none of this is chaos./ Immigration, cross the river, the blood of us./ It goes like this: water, land, water. Like a waltz./ I am in no hurry to stop believing we are supposed/ to sway like this, that we too are immense and calling out./ With these lines at the end we get the message of the poem. To Limon, the whales represent these strong beasts that have gone through life alterations. They have evolved from land animals, to sea ,then back to water and Limon sees this not as a chaotic feature but one that is natural. She compares it to a waltz because of it’s “clockwork”-like cycle: always moving around and around. This use of hyperbole is meant to explore her acceptance that her drastic changes are supposed to happen, and while she is frightened by the ambiguity it's still something she takes on. Given the fact that the chapter previous to this one focuses on the death of her mother, this seems appropriate. But it can also be seen as a comparison to her breakups. What supports this idea is that she mentions that whales are capable of intimacy and suffering, and the waltz is a dance move meant to be performed by a couple.

“Bright Dead Things,” by Ada Limon is a collection of poems that are split into different sections. Section one focuses on her moving from New York to Kentucky. Section two is about the death of a loved one. Section three focuses on memories of the past, and section four focuses on how where we are impacts who we are. The poems seem to move through a myriad of emotions from sad, to happy, to reminiscent. Through her poems, Limon becomes relatable because most people have moved, lost a loved one, focused on the past, and thought about the meaning of life. One theme that seems to be present in all of the sections is personal growth; not physical growth, but growth in character, emotion, and inner-being. In section one of “Bright Dead Things,” Limon uses poetry to take the reader through her roller coaster of emotions about moving. In the poem, “The Last Move,” it is clear Limon does not feel attached to her new home in Kentucky. Describing herself in the statement, “this is Kentucky, not New York and I am not important” (Line 11-12), Limon becomes at odds with her new home. In New York, she was comfortable, but it is obvious in Kentucky she feels out of place and has had to step out of her comfort zone and into a community where she is not as important as she was in New York. Perhaps the saddest poem of all is the poem “Cower,” from the second section. Cower deals with the death of a loved one. The sadness Limon experiences is evident by verbiage use. The poem begins, “I’m cold in my heart” (Line 1). This phrasing has an essence of being numb. Later, she describes, “I will love someone that you/will never meet, death’s warm/breath at the mouth/ of the body’s holler./You are crying in the shower/I am crying near the shower” (Lines 11-15). The theme here is death, and Limon portrays death as something that is sad. In the poem, death is compared to coal-mining, its explosion impacting all within its blast zone. Death comes for all, and afterward, everyone is left to clean up the mess left by the consequences. While this poem is about the fierceness of death, it is also about how death can reach everyone. There is crying in this part of the section, which is indicative of mourning. This poem, however, leaves the reader so mindful of feelings toward death and loss, and how everyone goes through those things. “Bright Dead Things” is a book of self expression. Limon uses her life experiences, ponderings, and worries to entertain the reader, and also education them on certain life “milestones.” One of these milestones, which can be seen in each section, is that of death. In section one, Limon loses a bit of herself when she moves to Kentucky. In section two, Limon focuses on the death of her mother. In section three, Limon uses memories to describe a death of dreams past. Death is evident in section four as well. In the poem, “Lies About Sea Creatures,” Limon describes that she lied about whales, this is the death of a story. While death is one major theme, it is not a “deadly” one. Limon still pursues her dreams, but they start to change. She still uses optimism, even when it is speaking of heartbreak and mourning. Limon’s work is fantastic. The words she uses to describe her personal life, emotions, and decisions are genius. Limon points out that, even until death, anything Is possible. We are not bound by any one emotion or perspective. This is one point Limon makes in her poems, that we should let go of where we live, or what we do, they are temporary.

I first read Limon’s poem How To Triumph Like a Girl in a magazine called The Sun—a weird little creative writing periodical that was sent to my home probably by accident, and in which I connected with very little until I stumbled upon Limon’s masterpiece. If you haven’t read it, you need to. The poem, not The Sun. God, not The Sun. The poem had an emphasis on woman-power, but as a man I felt equally inspired and in awe of human strength and self-belief. I read a lot of poetry, but this little beauty stopped my world's rotation for a few minutes. So simple and profound. I nibbled on it for days like a sustaining trail mix in a hostile jungle. Poetry as condensed, creative, and courageous words are important to those of us who feel like we don’t have enough genius or time to catch all the ideas and feelings that run like water through unconscious fingers. Wait a minute. That was genius. I want to thank my family, my editor, the Academy, and any one of the gods of the top ten religions. So, I bought the book. Many of the poems in this book delivered the same seismic wallop as “How To Triumph...” Limon is great at appreciating life while complaining about the sucky stuff in a way that doesn’t completely coagulate into mere bitchiness. It’s crude enough to be authentic, but even when it gets a little weird (e.g., squatting to pee in the poem “Service”), it feels like it was about time for someone to piss on the rules. (Pardon the phun…I did mention I’m a certified genius, write?) I loved Limon’s criticism of the evasiveness and self-loathing of many constricting forms of religious belief. Life is inscrutable but beautiful, and life lived with open-eyed hopefulness—“the sweet continuance of birth and flight in a place so utterly reckless…How masterful and mad is hope”—is infinitely preferable to adopting a traditional faith by which one can pretend to “fix their problems with prayer and property.” The benefits of her humanistic/naturalistic/agnostic life include: “…[a] new way of living with the world inside of us so we cannot lose it, and we cannot be lost.” “…nesting my head in the blood of my body…I relied on a Miracle Fish, once…that was before I knew it was by my body’s water that moved it, that the massive ocean inside me was what made fish swim.” The coup de grace to fundamentalist religion arrives in a description about a time in her life when she tried believing in prayer as tradition suggests, but she couldn’t make it work. “There was a sign and it said, This earth is blessed. Do not play in it. But I swear I will play on this blessed earth until I die.” Sounds like a good idea. The play part. Not the die part.

I’m grateful to another reviewer who introduced me to Ada Limon’s work with a link to the first poem, “How to Triumph like a Girl.” Not surprisingly, that poem won a Pushcart Prize. It also sent me straight to Amazon to place a book order. I love everything about Limon’s poems, their strong feminism, their humor and humanity, and their accessibility. I especially love how she deals with difficult issues that face us all (death, hospice, love entanglements) yet manages to leave us feeling uplifted, part of something greater than ourselves. As she said in a Q&A, “Life is suffering. Art should be a gift.” (I hadn’t finished the book before I looked her up on You Tube and watched two readings.) Most of Limon’s titles are simple and serviceable, but a few are so captivating I’d jump to their pages in an anthology, like these two: “I Remember the Carrots” displays her fierce determination that surfaces again and again in a proud, ta-da! attitude. Limon often writes in almost a stream of consciousness that feels natural yet is surprisingly compact, taking you on a short, zig-zag path to a strong, unexpected ending. “Oh, Please Let It Be Lightning,” begins with a car trip discussion: “…your mother said she wasn’t sure/if one of your ancestors died in childbirth/or was struck by lightning.” The title would have been the expected punch line, but she ends the poem with a much grander bang. I’d be reading along, simply enjoying the flow and tone of her work when a metaphor or simile would stop me in wonder. Here are a few of my favorites: “…As if this big dangerous animal is also a part of me, that somewhere inside the delicate skin of my body, there pumps an 8-pound female horse heart, giant with power, heavy with blood.” (“How to Triumph Like a Girl”) “If you walk long enough, your crowded head clears, like how all the cattle run off loudly as you approach.” (“During the Impossible Age of Everyone”) “Below the grave, a cold spring runs. Clear, like a conscience.” (“The Rewilding”) Limon has joined my list of favorite poets.

This book of poetry is not as depressing as those of the last two United States poet laureate’s but not as good as Brian Bilston’s. I could relate to several of them, including the one on tattoos of places we like—Nebraska—not being a good idea, and about Alaska and the bear and the goat, and the glory of Montana.

“What the heart wants? The heart wants / her horses back.” Ada Limón’s poetry fills the heart with fire, ache, desire, and the kind of questioning that lingers in the chest long after the book is closed. She names emotions I thought I’d hidden—and uncages those I didn’t know were waiting to be felt. “How to Triumph Like a Girl” made me cheer for my strong womanity. “Downhearted” felt like a celebration of sovereignty. “The Conditional” stirred a tender yearning for love that stays fully present. Limón has a way of making poetry feel like a mirror and a balm all at once. 💬 Favorite Quotes: “I’m learning so many different ways to be quiet.” “You see: light escapes from a body at night and in the morning, despite the oppressive vacancy of her leaving’s shadow, light comes up over the mountains and it is and it is and it is.” “…and I thought, this was what it was to be blessed— to know a love that was beyond an owning, beyond the body and its needs, but went straight from wild thing to wild thing, approving of its wildness.” “I thought after the first stab, I’d learn to take it, but even now, I hold the hot blade in the mouth in case anyone comes to destroy the bloom.” “…we’re small and flawed, but I want to be who I am, going where I’m going, all over again.” “I’ll be the strike anywhere, the reckless match you can count on to claim a life, or to save one.”

Ada Limon’s poetry collection was an exploration into her life as she reveals the emotions that accompany a few of her life-changing moments. She keeps an open diary in this collection as see explores her decisions, goes through the death of her stepmother, and finds herself content in her position in life. Ada’s poetry is a wonderful read full of immensely genuine written poems. We see her evaluations within herself with underlying questions. In her poem The Last Move she bluntly asks herself “What is it to go to a We from an I?”. In I Remember the Carrots she questions her and the worlds compliance “Why must we practice this surrender?”. Ada continuously along her book questions her motives and choices. I appreciated seeing this aspect of her writing that so many people do unconsciously within themselves. It brings that inner introspection forth and even encourages the reader to question some of their own decisions in life. We feel the immense internal struggle she faces in her stepmother’s death. The poem In a Mexican Restaurant I Recall How Much You Upset Me she describes the want for her stepmother “You’re the muscle I cut from the bone and still the bone remembers, still it wants (so much, it wants)”. Understanding the loss of a loved one is a silent understanding. Usually, words do not aid in describing the uniqueness of such an experience, but Ada really does a great job at explaining the “want”, the lingering empty spot where something used to belong not occupying that space physically anymore but mentally. Throughout the book we see many ties to animals, especially horses. In How to Triumph Like A Girl she encourages readers to imagine “inside the delicate skin of my body, there pumps an 8-pound female horse heart, giant with power, heavy with blood”. She gives incredible imagery throughout her book of animals she encounters and plays on their attributes to give readers this wild geographic effect of what animal will we see now but at such a deeper level what these animals represent in herself. At the end being perfectly content where she chose to be in nature with her beloved and her animals. In The Conditional she asks for answers she already finds true within herself “Say you’d still want this: us alive, right here, feeling lucky. I could picture her asking her husband these questions and within herself knowing he felt the same and all was well in her world. After reading her collection and going through the book pondering its effects upon myself, I came to the conclusion I did enjoy her poetry even though at first, I did not. When I read through some of her poems, I could not fully connect with what I thought her poems were saying. With a little more digging into the vocabulary, references, and animal connection I was able to relate to some of the poems that had originally pushed me away from wanting to read her book. When reading her book, you will come across some poems that will speak directly to you and some might need some more attention, but I promise at the end you will not regret giving this poetry collection a read. Even when somethings aren’t perfect they are still definitely worth it, just like my favorite poem in the collection. The Problem with Travel We are small and / flawed, but I want to be / who I am, going where / I am going, all over again.

Ho acquistato questo libro per fare un regalo di compleanno e la persona che l'ha ricevuto ne è rimasta molto contenta!

Beautifully written, each poem is so captivating, I read the whole book in one go. I keep coming back to read them again, finding new layers, words and images I hadn't noticed. Nothing feels forced, the imagery of animals and the nature, the way Ada Limón deals with her sense of herself, with love, with her coping of domesticity and loss. These poems are uplifting, there is a sincere and universal human-ness in them, if there is such a word.

Limon's poems flow with an ease and a fit into their own sense so perfectly that it makes every one a pleasure to read. The Kentucky poems are marvelous. I could hardly stop reading them and put my light out at night.

I was blown away by this poet. It's been a long time since I've read such consistently good work. Bravo.

the power of her language and imagination is extraordinary.