Segovia Don’t get me wrong I love the smoke and flashing lights A bass line that can nail you to the floor Drums that turn the spine to sponge And the lightning antics of a Many-fingered lead who’s juiced his strings It takes audacity to strut A fretted instrument Onstage Yet even in the buzz and sway of an electric bliss I sometimes think about An old man Bald and stooped Atop a stool with his Unamplified guitar and Nothing but It was long ago I heard his sounds Unfaded, undiminished They still quietly explode That’s what I call guts ________________________________________________________________________ Emanuel E. García, Sinking In, One Hundred Poems, 2013 |