The title is an instruction, and the poem reads like a short lesson in how to pay attention. The speaker asks us to hear three things, each a little surprising. First, a raven that is "true but broken." We might picture a harsh, damaged call, yet the speaker treats it as honest precisely because it isn't polished. Next, quiet itself starts to speak, and it does so "privately like a kiss," as if silence can be intimate and meant for one listener.
The last image turns things around: art turned "inside-out" becomes "heart once again." The wordplay is neat, since "art" is simply hidden inside "heart." The speaker seems to suggest that real art comes from feeling, and that we find it by looking beneath the surface.
The mood is hushed, tender and a little playful. Nothing is shouted. The poem asks us to slow down and trust small, imperfect sounds.