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There are no magics or elves or timely godmothers to guide us. We are lost, must wizard a track through our own screaming weed.

Gwendolyn Brooks

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Exhaust the little moment. Soon it dies. And be it gash or gold it will not come again in this identical guise.
GWENDOLYN BROOKS

Death Gold Identity Moments
Beware the easy griefs / that fool and fuel nothing.
GWENDOLYN BROOKS

Easy Fools Fuel Grief
Each body has its art.
GWENDOLYN BROOKS

Art Body One Liner
There can be no whiter whiteness than this one: An insurance man’s shirt on its morning run.
GWENDOLYN BROOKS

Insurance Man Oneself White
Already I am no longer looked at with lechery or love.
GWENDOLYN BROOKS

Love Myself See Sight
What I’m fighting for now in my work… for an expression relevant to all manner of blacks, poems I could take into a tavern, into the street, into the halls of a housing project.
GWENDOLYN BROOKS

Black Expression Fight Home Oppression Project Work
As you get older, you find that often the wheat, disentangling itself from the chaff, comes out to meet you.
GWENDOLYN BROOKS

Food Growth Old Yourself
Goodness begins simply with the fact of life itself.
GWENDOLYN BROOKS

Beginning Fact Goodness Life Simplicity
I am a writer perhaps because I am not a talker.
GWENDOLYN BROOKS

Myself Talk Writing
She was learning to love moments. To love moments for themselves.
GWENDOLYN BROOKS

Deep Hereslf Learning Love Moments
Be yourself. Don’t imitate other poets. You are as important as they are.
GWENDOLYN BROOKS

Be Yourself Imitation Important Poet Yourself
I am interested in telling my particular truth as I have seen it.
GWENDOLYN BROOKS

Interest Myself See Truth
Life for my child is simple, and is good.
GWENDOLYN BROOKS

Children Goodness Life Simplicity
Exhaust the little moment soon it dies.
GWENDOLYN BROOKS

Death Moments Time
The forties and fifties were years of high poet-incense; the language-flowers were thickly sweet. Those flowers whined and begged white folks to pick them, to find them lovable. Then the ’60s: Independent fire!
GWENDOLYN BROOKS

Fire Flower Independent Language Poet Sweet
We don’t ask a flower any special reason for its existence. We just look at it and are able to accept it as being something different from ourselves.
GWENDOLYN BROOKS

Acceptance Different Existence Flower Ourselves Reason

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