![]() Most importantly, Limón-a confessed autobiographical poet (see her 2014 interview at the online journal Compose)-wants readers to be intimately by her side, line after line. She wants to be her “own personal map of America,” love and wreck and all. She wants life and death reworked into some spirit of “solve-able absence.” She wants the entirety of her physical past and its erasure. ![]() She wants to retain her sense of self as she moves into the “we” of an abiding relationship. The needs and wants expressed by Limón in the four sections that make up her National Book Award nominated collection are anything but simple. Luckily for readers, the wants layered throughout the poems of Ada Limón’s far-reaching fourth collection, Bright Dead Things, transform simple moments into dynamite capable of blasting the tops off mountains. While want today retains its sense of lack, the word has stretched over time toward flippancy, as all too often our wishes and cravings can be easily met with a quick jaunt to the nearest convenience store. ![]() At its origins, want is fully negative, to be lacking or missing. ![]() Minneapolis, MN: Milkweed Editions, 2015. ![]()
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