With The Weary Blues, Hughes reminds us that human thought is poetry; it just takes a certain skill or instinct to harness it.
Coming away from this I was amazed by how much joy and love for life there is. Despite all the hurdles for a Black artist, for Black people, in the first half of the 19th century, he seemed totally enthralled with life.
Also that cover! Is that not one of the most iconic pictures? I‘d love to have a reprint on my wall.