10.16.2013

Lampada

it is addressed thusly:
An ode.
it reads:
In the dark beneath the swaying lamp
Whose lighting must needs set adrift
Tracing patterns with brightened air
Sated with the evening damp, sated with the evening damp
When above the reddish tint we lift
The fire in our eyes not just a flare
And the drying oil not just a stamp.

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