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4.28 AVERAGE
4.28 AVERAGE
Another really good collection. I really liked the poems: A Good Story, In the Shadow, It Be ins With the Trees, I Have Wanted Clarity in Light of My Lack of Light, Sports, Too Close.
i loved this so much it would feel sacrilegious to choose favourites. feel so lucky that we get to read these poems.
“Love ends. But what if it doesn’t?” (85)
I wish I could put into words how sickeningly, devastatingly beautiful this collection is in its entirety.
Every poem broke my heart in a different way—then put me back together.
This collection tore through me, cradled me, found the places where I hurt and told me we are different but the same. The hurt—is different but the same. It’s who we are.
Limon is such a talented writer. I wish I could make my grief sound so pretty, so effortless. I wish I could make my pain into poetry, hold it close and let it go. I wish I could love myself and my hurt like Limon does hers. I think we’d all be better for it.
One poem, “The Mountain Lion”, I read and I read and I read. Over and over, on loop, like the lioness captured by the night vision camera. I wanted to see her again and again, jumping. Overcoming. I had to find the poem online, print the poem out, and hang it on my wall so I could look at it over and over again. Read it to myself until memorized. I want the poem with me—If that tells you anything about this collection. If I could tell you anything about this collection, it would be that.
I cannot recommend this collection enough. I’m so sorry it took me so long to find it. If you haven’t found your way to this collection yet, I hope you do soon~
I wish I could put into words how sickeningly, devastatingly beautiful this collection is in its entirety.
Every poem broke my heart in a different way—then put me back together.
This collection tore through me, cradled me, found the places where I hurt and told me we are different but the same. The hurt—is different but the same. It’s who we are.
Limon is such a talented writer. I wish I could make my grief sound so pretty, so effortless. I wish I could make my pain into poetry, hold it close and let it go. I wish I could love myself and my hurt like Limon does hers. I think we’d all be better for it.
One poem, “The Mountain Lion”, I read and I read and I read. Over and over, on loop, like the lioness captured by the night vision camera. I wanted to see her again and again, jumping. Overcoming. I had to find the poem online, print the poem out, and hang it on my wall so I could look at it over and over again. Read it to myself until memorized. I want the poem with me—If that tells you anything about this collection. If I could tell you anything about this collection, it would be that.
I cannot recommend this collection enough. I’m so sorry it took me so long to find it. If you haven’t found your way to this collection yet, I hope you do soon~
only half doing the sealey challenge this year but also just choosing to spend some time reading poetry i've been meaning to read.
my first full length limón collection, having read some individual poems floating around the internet, and damn it is everything i hoped and dreamed it would be. Limón writes with such tenderness and such observing, it is heartbreakingly beautiful. i found myself several times having read a particularly touching line and just - breathing deeply and tearing up.
an absolutely incredible body of work, i very much want to read more.
favorite poems were: the hurting kind, the end of poetry, obedience, blowing on the wheel, the first fish, joint custody, calling things what they are, i have wanted clarity in light of my lack of light, how we see each other, intimacy.
my first full length limón collection, having read some individual poems floating around the internet, and damn it is everything i hoped and dreamed it would be. Limón writes with such tenderness and such observing, it is heartbreakingly beautiful. i found myself several times having read a particularly touching line and just - breathing deeply and tearing up.
an absolutely incredible body of work, i very much want to read more.
favorite poems were: the hurting kind, the end of poetry, obedience, blowing on the wheel, the first fish, joint custody, calling things what they are, i have wanted clarity in light of my lack of light, how we see each other, intimacy.
“before, the only thing i was interested in was love, how it grips you, how it terrifies you, how it annihilates and resuscitates you. i didn’t know then that it wasn’t even love that i was interested in but my own suffering. i thought suffering kept things interesting. how funny that i called it love and the whole time it was pain.”
Some of these poems are a startling display of talent - but of course, I don't need to be the one to tell you that Limon's acclaim as a wordsmith is warranted. What I will tell you is that despite those bright spots, I found much of the content of this collection repetitive (both thematically and structurally) and its takeaways oddly simplistic. The best poems here are utterly delectable, but the collection as a whole is bloated.
Highlights include "A Good Story", "In the Shadow", "Stillwater Cove", "Jar of Scorpions", "The First Fish", "Cyrus & the Snakes" and "It's the Season I Often Mistake".
Highlights include "A Good Story", "In the Shadow", "Stillwater Cove", "Jar of Scorpions", "The First Fish", "Cyrus & the Snakes" and "It's the Season I Often Mistake".
emotional
inspiring
reflective
sad
medium-paced
reflective
medium-paced
“…my beloved and I are lying in bed in a soft silence. We are talking about how we carry so many people with us wherever we go, how, even when simply living, these unearned moments are a tribute to the dead. We are both expecting to hear an owl as the night deepens. All afternoon, from the porch, we watched an Eastern towhee furiously building her nest in the untamed forsythia with its yellow spilling out into the horizon. I told him that the way I remember the name forsythia is that when my stepmother, Cynthia, was dying, that last week, she said lucidly but mysteriously, More yellow. And I thought, yes, more yellow, and I nodded because I agreed. Of course, more yellow.”
from Forsythia
from Forsythia