Old yellow light buzz
like a fly by your ear,
a mummer in the corner
of someone's distant future.
And old yellow light sit
behind the lamp shade,
behind hidden like a criminal
robbing mother earth.
So old yellow light stay alive
while I write this poem,
hold on a little bit longer
while I try
try, and capture the 20th century.
Don't let me forget.
Don't let it...
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