photo: tammy hackney
"we real cool"
the pool players.
seven at the golden shovel.
we real cool. we
left school. we
lurk late. we
strike straight. we
sing sin. we
think gin. we
jazz june. we
die soon.
i'm pretty into this poem by gwendolyn brooks. it's the poem she's most known for and i bet that gets annoying for her...but this poem just ricochets around inside me. it's urgent and true and tragic. and it just wants to fall off the tongue.
(the photo and poem are totally unrelated, except that they give me the same kind of feeling—that mix of defiance and frivolity, that i don't give a fuck attitude that is both buoyant and weighty)
1 comment:
that photo fits the poem perfectly
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