Sad Player

Does not matter
how many instruments you buy
how rare they are
how odd they are
where they’re from —

if you are
that sad kind of player
who twists fingers
lips and lungs
into knots trying
to transcend
by sheer mechanics
the spirit of the maker
the spirit of their time and place
the blood in that soil and 
the tears and joy that fed it — 

if you’re that player
take a seat 
and learn first to sing
Make yourself over into
instrument
Seethe and roil with
your own blood

Then go back
Untangle your parts
from your head

Play now
sad player
See if you have stayed
the same kind of sad

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About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

5 responses to “Sad Player

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