Let her dress take the wind, curl her lips and her pages, the dogwoods let go their leaves, never gonna go back never gonna be free. Below the rows of words, she digs her toes into the dirt, and each partition of earthworm, sees the sadness in her work.
Call it a burrow, a way home.
The poet Keats about to die, says I swear I’ve more to do. Unmade poems spit and wind, never gonna get out never gonna have time. The margins held him from the scream, held his heart and rhymes between, and take her now, the digger’s words are all he is and teem for her.
Call it a burrow, a way home.
I was more when I left here more when I left here. Never came back home. I’ve been digging holes. I keep digging holes.
Portland singer/songwriter delivers a gorgeous Christmas EP, fashioned in the lush style of classics by Bing Crosby and Johnny Mathis. Bandcamp New & Notable Nov 23, 2020
Incredible songwriting and vocals. The songs are so beautiful and are full of honesty and freshness. I'm very glad I discovered Julie's music! nick arne