Poetry: Mountain By Clifton Gachagua
On the day I set out on the climb, grief saddled in my back like a bag of marbles, my breath like clouds hanging on the low peaks of a mountain.
On the day I set out on the climb, grief saddled in my back like a bag of marbles, my breath like clouds hanging on the low peaks of a mountain.
Lee Friedlander. Kyoto. 1981. via Will be back soon... -- Jane
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