7/26/06 Poem by ryan blood

i hear the twang
of someone's sadness
played
on a steel guitar
somewhere
down the street -
i am followed
by the music
like
a dog trailing
in the wake
of my travels,
following
at my heels.
but the song
is not in my head
for it evolves
constantly
into newer music
into newer misery;
i am not capable
of holding such sadness
i remain an observer to it
only someone who
has known a great deal of things
can take such melancholy
and twist it to make sounds
so true
and i have learned very little
despite being taught
very much

(july 2006)