When the wanderer returns,what does she bring you?The skull of a bald eaglepicked clean, white and flightless.You call it Icarus,and wax rolls down like tearsas she writes you epic songsabout the refuge of the roads,and you think she’s finally home,but her mind is constantlyon travelling, travelling, travelling,a personal odyssey,not a false alarm. Kim M. Russell, […]
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