Richard Manly Heiman

poems by Richard Manly Heiman

Our Lady of Iliniza Norte   Remember turning the hairpin twist in the trail and there she was? Mater Dolorosa, alone at 14000 feet. I wanted to linger near that virgin, that nude landscape pocked with cracked lava gullies and lunar chaos. Spirits were everywhere. Pygmy alpacas at trailhead– 

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