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A Poem a Day #9

Writer's picture: Kyle ParkKyle Park

Welcome back, peeps. I hope you all are doing well and staying safe! We're taking a look at another poem from Ada Limón's Bright Dead Things poetry collection. By the way, today's poem is definitely on my Top 5 Poems list :)


The Quiet Machine

By Ada Limón


I’m learning so many different ways to be quiet. There’s how I stand in the lawn, that’s one way. There’s also how I stand in the field across from the street, that’s another way because I’m farther from people and therefore more likely to be alone. There’s how I don’t answer the phone, and how I sometimes like to lie down on the floor in the kitchen and pretend I’m not home when people knock. There’s daytime silent when I stare, and a nighttime silent when I do things. There’s shower silent and bath silent and California silent and Kentucky silent and car silent and 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. That’s how this machine works.


Thoughts going through my mind:

  • Love how the poem acknowledges the nature of quietude --> Reminded me of this excerpt from Ben Ehrenreich's Desert Notebook: "If we could also see the microwaves and radio waves and gamma waves and infrared and ultraviolet light leaping between and within the galaxies, the dark emptiness of space would seem neither empty nor dark, but teeming."

  • "I'm learning so many different ways to be quiet." = Limón insistence on quietude intrigues me. Limón could've started with I'm learning so many different ways to be myself, I'm learning so many different ways to love, or I'm learning so many different ways to be sad; instead, she focuses on the beauty behind quietude which deserves attention and appreciation. Nowadays, stillness seems so distant and has become an oddity in our rapidly-moving lives.

  • Notice the ongoing rhymes ("alone," "phone," "home," and "bones") = as Limón introduces the various forms of quietude she implements these subtle rhymes to highlight that various forms of silence may seem different but belong to some overarching need

  • "There’s how I don’t answer the phone, and how I sometimes like to lie down on the floor in the kitchen and pretend I’m not home when people knock." = I think everyone's experienced themselves ignoring a text, email, or a phone call. That said, I think our individual needs for quiet does not have anything to do with people––they have to do with the ways in which we are so worn down by our work and burdens in life that we fail to make enough room for people.

  • The title of the poem also raises a question: Do we live in an environment of constant auditing? Are we so engaged in the act of assessing both others and ourselves? Perhaps, there is so much to assess––so much noise. Thus, constructing a "Quiet Machine" could be a sign of resistance towards a societal ideal that you have to 'on' every minute of your life.

  • "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." = Wow...I think this is getting at how quietude and silence helps you temporarily step away from a world of noise but doesn't necessarily shield you from the world's senselessness. Quite depressing when you think that it's impossible at times to enjoy the beauty of silence

  • Just throwing a few questions out there: Do you have your own quiet space? Do you feel alone (or scared or safe) there? What makes you leave that quiet space? What makes you return?

Thanks for sticking around! If you would like to share anything, feel free to send me a private memo or drop any comments below. I'll see you tomorrow.

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