1. |
Back In The Bramble
03:08
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this tunnel is narrow; this bramble grows high
so sail like an arrow to the outside
beneath you is the world
it was younger then
it was dumber then
eat at the petals to get at the light
this country is scowling; these meadows have teeth
the grotto is howling at the heavens beneath
the ages are marrow-filled bones
toss them back
to the pack
back in the bramble we roam
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2. |
Cutting Clouds
03:37
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fog from a hollow earth coughing mist up like it's milk
blood on an ancient bird who's cutting clouds like scraps of silk
and their corpses fall to earth where they sink in mud like pearls
I don't know why I can't fly anymore
it seems that my flight in dreams barely gets me off the floor
so I'll eat the frame til I get through the door
crow on a lower bough is hiding planets in her beak
silk scraps ribboning around her are spelling out the thing she seeks
and it glows in boreal light but is gone when crow takes flight
I think I was meant to fly; to go purling through starry skies
to crack the spine of complacency and to draw the light from hidden spires
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3. |
Szymon
02:21
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the sun touched down on the lip of a fountain
I set sail off the edge of a mountain
I met god, and god said
'rest your eyes- the storm has fled'
I crossed the sea to become nameless
pockets empty; photos frameless
in my own yard, decades on, the same sun sets
but the fountain is gone
the sea swallowed your name
I can barely remember your face
the sun touched down as the bow of a halo
sailed the woods on the head of an arrow
I remembered you in there: your name was hanging on the air
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4. |
I Can See My Name
06:05
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I was born near a lighthouse to a wave and a ship
I buried my name on the beach, just within the waters reach
I cast my gaze to the sea and the gulls they cast their shadows over me
I'll take my time sailing free and just hope the new land will welcome me
feet on the prow, head in the clouds
gulls all around branching like boughs, not making a sound
through the woods I do sail on a sea of hidden trails
I can see the lighthouse across the space between
and I swear I can see my name coming back to me
I cast my gaze to the sea and the gulls they cast their shadows over me
I'll take my time sailing free, and just hope my home will still remember me
feet on the prow, head in the clouds
gulls all around branching like boughs, not making a sound
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Eiyn Sof
Not married to any genres. Playing- digging little tunnels into fantasy spaces and the mythic realm- seems to be my
instinctive and overarching approach.
All are home recordings, DIY with some collaborations and incredible guests sprinkled in.
Collaborative works detailed (with links) in Recommendations section.
See Blue Fog Recordings, Arachnidiscs, and Ur Audio Visual for other releases.
... more
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