All posts tagged: lyrics


i watched the whole world bloom into colour, one season into another looming lavender skies promised me thunder springtime on the edge of the mountain. then the days, growing softer and slower, one season into another humid evenings and wildflower honey, like sticky-sweet accents, all foreign to me. the last golden sigh of summer, one season into another a slow exhaling september the last of the sunflowers bow their heads. we pierce the darkest days of winter, one season into another holly, mistletoe, frost in the garden then stained glass, then snowdrops, then soon enough spring. Advertisements


faith celestial braid. november’s grace. palest sky all glass and lace. the enshrined tide (starlight) of an orbicular ocean which will rush, rise, and subside in perpetual devotion. a silver sylvan siren’s whispered superstition offering divine direction, a path to dew drops and cyclamen, my lost pool of Siloam.

the mirror breaks

then all at once, the mirror breaks celestial patterns replicate reflect then fracture on black waves i raise the anchor, drop the sails the night then draws its curtain down the light stays where you are somehow i think that i’ve known you before love is a familiar shore


opalescent glass bead raindrops shatter as they hit the surface of the water, mirror still, aureate, as autumn’s chill spills over this seaside town all sheets of gold between slate cloud what is it that you think you’ve found? the sun sets down his radiant crown.

star maps and sundials

you are the only constellation that i’ll ever understand, you are my star map, you’re my sundial, you’re the compass in my hand. the luminous points of our lives strung together, the sea breeze is carrying with it saltwater and wonder the waves pool around at our feet whispering at worlds we’ve yet to see.    

the starlight motel

silver springs and the starlight motel it’s the strangest state to find yourself in now you’ve got me brought to my knees, here your devotional words are feeling foreign, unfamiliar and what had once felt like home or like grace feels apparitional now, it moves in abstract shapes rising fog, speeding freight trains these are my desert days