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Ada Limón: Bright Dead Things

We have a new national poet laureate: Ada Limón. I was familiar with the name, but could not recall reading any poems—at least nothing that stuck with me. So I grabbed a copy of Bright Dead Things. It’s not her most recent collection, but it was well received (finalist for both the National Book Award and the National Book Critics Circle Award). And though she apparently does not live in California anymore, she spent her formative years here, and I’m always happy to promote our local talent. 

Crowned newly with a fearsome cutting,
I fold the aqua blanket twice to stay alive.

Headstones in the heart’s holler, sludge
of what’s left after the mountain’s blasted.

Not a kid anymore, there are no pretty victims
or greasy cavernous villains spitting blazes.