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 silence when I stare, and night time silence 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.” -Poet Ada Limón’s “The Quiet Machine,” from Bright Dead Things In Ada Limón’s poem above, which experience do you think the speaker is exploring? Loneliness? Solitude? Both? While the beauty of poetry rests in the eye of the beho...