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
            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 Poems2013