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U.S. poet laureate, Ada Limón was invited by NASA to write a poem to be engraved on the Europa Clipper spacecraft. That poem, “In Praise of Mystery: A Poem for Europa" launched to Jupiter and its moons on October 14, 2024. Reimagined as In Praise of Mystery, Limón’s debut picture book, this luminous poem is illustrated by celebrated and internationally renowned artist Peter Sís.
In Praise of Mystery celebrates humankind’s endless curiosity, asks us what it means to explore beyond our known world, and shows how the unknown can reflect us back to ourselves.
Available here: In Praise of Mystery by Ada Limón, Peter Sís (Illustrator) | Ay Caramba Books
#aycarambabooks#shopsmall#givebooks#bookswelove#finebooks#books#FreeShipping#Petersis#adalimon#poetry
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she's leaving home (bye, bye)
Sandra Cisneros, House on Mungo Street // Kevin Lucbert, Homes // The Chicks, Wide Open Spaces // Rainbow Rowell, Attachments
#webs#web weaving#theme: home#theme: absence#theme: growing up#theme: dependence#theme: letting go#theme: this i choose to do#mine#sandra cisneros#kevin lucbert#the chicks#rainbow rowell#requests#for the anon that asked for something about moving out :)#and @adalimones who requested something for leaving home#thanks to @juliaflame for correcting me on the name of sandra cisneros' book <3
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u guys follow my personal poetry and other shit blog right? @adalimon hehe
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Guess What Time it Is? It's Time for National Poetry Month!
Guess What Time it Is? It's Time for National Poetry Month! #Poetry #PoetryCommunity #AdaLimon #AcademyOfAmericanPoets
The 2023 poster was designed by Marc Brown, creator of the popular Arthur book and PBS television series. The artwork incorporates an excerpted line from the poem “Carrying” by U.S. Poet Laureate Ada Limón. I am so excited to receive the envelope containing my 2023 National Poetry Month Poster from the Academy of American Poets. Each year, the NPM poster is commissioned by an artist to create…
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#Academy of American Poets#Ada Limón#Celebrating Poetry#National Poetry Month#National Poetry Month Poster#Poetry#Poetry Community#Poets#U.S. Poet Laureate
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In Conversation with “The Quiet Machine” by Ada Limón
I’m learning so many different ways to get bruised. There’s when I slip on the ice outside my door. There’s also when I slip on nothing at all. There’s when someone accidentally knocks into me with their elbow or when they knock into me with their elbow on purpose. Sometimes I bruise when I don’t even know it, like hitting my hip against the counter (I think). Then sometimes there’s the “I did it to my self” bruises, which are most of them, but other times it’s the bruises I can’t even see that hurt. Grief. Heartache. There’s the bruises that start small and stay small and the ones that take forever to go away and the ones that I wish I’d never gotten and the ones I know I deserve so that’s what I say sometimes when I discover a new bruise - “I deserve this,” and sometimes it’s one of those bruises that I don’t even know where it came from. That’s how I hurt.
#poetry#poet#poem#creative writing#creativewriting#spilled ink#spilled words#spilledink#spilledwords#prose poem#prose poetry#prosepoem#prosepoetry#extended metaphor#bruise#bruises#bruised#hurt#adalimon#ada limon
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Wonder Woman
“Standing at the swell of the muddy Mississippi
after the urgent care doctor had just said, Well,
sometimes shit happens, I fell fast and hard
for New Orleans all over again. Pain pills swirling
in the purse along with a spell for later. It’s taken
a while for me to admit, I am in a raging battle
with my body, a spinal column thirty-five degrees
bent, vertigo that comes and goes like a DC Comics
villain nobody can kill. Invisible pain is both
a blessing and a curse. You always look so happy,
said a stranger once as I shifted to my good side
grinning. But that day, alone on the riverbank,
brass blaring from the Steamboat Natchez,
out of the corner of my eye, I saw a girl, maybe half my age,
dressed, for no apparent reason, as Wonder Woman.
She strutted by in all her strength and glory, invincible,
eternal, and when I stood to clap (because who wouldn’t have),
she bowed and posed like she knew I needed a myth—
a woman, by a river, indestructible.”
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. . . #wordvyasa #adalimon #lovequotes #quotesgram #quotesforlife #quoteofthenight #quotestoliveby #quotesaboutlifequotesandsayings #quotestagram #quotesaboutlove #quotesoftheday #quotesforyou #poetrychallenge #poesia #poetcommunity #poetsofig #poetsunite #poetryisnotdead #verseoftheday https://www.instagram.com/p/CGVCcdrHQq4/?igshid=1xjanjzdqg7b0
#wordvyasa#adalimon#lovequotes#quotesgram#quotesforlife#quoteofthenight#quotestoliveby#quotesaboutlifequotesandsayings#quotestagram#quotesaboutlove#quotesoftheday#quotesforyou#poetrychallenge#poesia#poetcommunity#poetsofig#poetsunite#poetryisnotdead#verseoftheday
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During the Impossible Age of Everyone by Ada Limón 1. There are so many people who’ve come before us, arrows and wagon wheels, obsidian tools, buffalo. Look out at the meadow, you can almost see them, generations dissolved in the bluegrass and hay. I want to try and be terrific. Even for an hour. 2. If you walk long enough, your crowded head clears, like how all the cattle run off loudly as you approach. This fence is a good fence, but I doubt my own haywire will hold up to all this blank sky, so open and explicit. I’m like a fence, or a cow, or that word, yonder. 3. There is a slow tractor traffic hollering outside, and I’d like not to be traffic, but the window shaking. Your shoes are piled up with mine, and the heat comes on, makes a simple noise, a dog-yawn. People have done this before, but not us.
Ada Limon
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The Light the Living See
Ada Limón
We’re stopped in Subiaco to lay stones on stone at a fellow penner’s grave
where we jaw, punch-drunk and carsick, about being buried or burned up. “I don’t want
to take up any more space,” I tell the boys, both fathers now, who, shaped like trees, lean
toward the earth. I imagine their old daughters leaving a slice of gas station moon pie,
rye, a nickel plated acorn, ladies picnicking in the shade of a pine as immobile as the body’s husk.
Chemicals and maggots, sure, but also a place to grieve, a creek, a constellation of death to count on.
These men know something I don’t. That someone will grieve past their bones, count on them
to be there among the shaded trunks of pines like the stark bars of a generous cage.
(What if no one comes to the cliffside where my skin’s ashes set sail? No mourning kin, no lost hitchhiker.)
But friends, it’s lunchtime, and doesn’t my mouth still work; my appetite, my forked tongue?
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I have always loved (& completely related) to this poem by @adalimonwriter … I can’t remember where I captured this image but definitely whilst adoring some moss.💚 #adalimon #poetry #words #healing #lush #green #moss #mosslove https://www.instagram.com/p/CavUoLTpQ7w/?utm_medium=tumblr
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Sa 7/4/2020: New Temporary Journal page. #newtemporaryjournal #scraps #deniscastellas #laraharwood #williameggleston #photographs #christianboltanski #sumeitse #markrothko #antoniotapies #adalimon #foundtext #eileenmyles #collage #collageart #papercollage #cutandpaste #gluepaperscissors https://www.instagram.com/p/CCPS8KrBE5G/?igshid=1u0q419c22yne
#newtemporaryjournal#scraps#deniscastellas#laraharwood#williameggleston#photographs#christianboltanski#sumeitse#markrothko#antoniotapies#adalimon#foundtext#eileenmyles#collage#collageart#papercollage#cutandpaste#gluepaperscissors
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i read any ada limón poem and she just rips my head clean off!!!!
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this is what it was to be blessed- to know a love that was beyond owning, beyond the body and its needs, but instead went straight from wild thing to wild thing
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