1) An electronica d… Read Full Bio ↴There are at least seven artists with this name:
1) An electronica duet from Los Angeles
2) William Oliver Swofford
3) Belgian Rock / Pop singer (Junior Eurovision)
4) Romanian rock band
5) Oliver Ching from Hong Kong
6) American band from the West Coast of the USA
7) Finnish rock band
8) Sydney, Australia rock band
9) Oliver (Vocaloid)
10) Oliver Dragojević, Croatian legend
11) An alternative teenager from Arizona
12) Oliver Chaplin
13) Oliver Francis, an indie rapper from Columbia, United States
1) Formed by Oliver “Oligee” Goldstein and Vaughn "U-Tern" Oliver, Oliver have found the beating heart inside the dance machine. Whether moving bodies at the world's biggest electronic festivals, or hand-crafting digital gems in the studio, the producer / DJ duo of U-Tern and Oligee are responsible for some of the funkiest, toughest, and most diverse dance music today.
After spending years writing, producing, DJing and digging for vinyl, U-Tern and Oligee linked up in LA to forge something groundbreaking. They took their shared '80s baby tastes - relentlessly groovy R&B, boombox worthy hip-hop, soaring electropop hooks - and mashed them together in remixes for everyone from Chromeo and Foster The People to Breakbot and techno godfather Juan Atkins. Original jams like "All Night" and "Dirty Talk" (supported by dance music luminaries like Alan Braxe and Busy P) took Oliver's back-to-the-future sound even further, while high-powered collaborations with A-Trak ("Disco Nap") and Destructo ("LA Funky") brought the duo to the festival circuit, where they kept hands in the air all summer.
With the release of their Fool's Gold EP Mechanical, Oliver push their hybrid sound to even funkier new horizons. The stadium worthy opener "MYB" perfectly segues into the moody strut of “Night Is On My Mind,” before shifting gears with the hands-in-the-air ecstasy of “Control” and riding off into the sunset on the title track’s cinematic pulse. With non-stop DJ sets on deck (complete with Oligee's live keyboard riffs) and even more new music, there's no telling where the beats will take them next. "Oliver is all over the map," says U-Tern. "But we're going to have a good time no matter what."
2) Born in North Wilkesboro, North Carolina, William Oliver Swofford began singing as an undergraduate at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill in the early 1960s. He was a member of two music groups: The Virginians and, later, The Good Earth.
Oliver's clean-cut good looks and soaring baritone were the perfect vehicle for his July 1969 #3 single "Good Morning Starshine", from the pop-rock musical Hair. In October 1969 Oliver reached #2 with Rod McKuen's melodious ballad "Jean", the theme from the Oscar-winning film The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie. Oliver performed both hits on a number of TV variety shows and specials in the late 1960s, including the Ed Sullivan Show. Later recordings had much less commercial success: "Sunday Mornin'" peaked at #35 in December 1969, and "Angelica" stalled at #97 in April 1970. His follow-up "I Can Remember" from July 1970 missed the Hot 100.
Despite his vocal talents, Oliver could not sustain more hits and he later made a career in business. A short-lived attempt to team up with Karen Carpenter in the late 1970s was unsuccessful. In 1983, People magazine ran a feature article on Oliver, describing a happily married father who kept his distance from the music business. In the late 1990s Oliver was diagnosed with cancer, and he died in Shreveport, Louisiana, on the same date that Screamin' Jay Hawkins, Charles Schulz, and Tom Landry all died.
3) The Belgian Singer is the representative of Belium in Junior Eurovision Song Contest 2008 with the song 'Shup Up'. He won Junior EuroSong 2008 in Belgium which gained him the ticket to Limassol in November 2008 to represent his nation in the Junior Eurovision Song Contest.
4) The Romanian rock band's story begins in 2005, when after four years marked by major member changes, the band 41 shed its skin to reveal what we know today as Oliver: four experienced musicians who are not afraid to experiment, mercilessly blending their uncensored ideas into music. Oliver oozes passion, energy, poetry and the band spares no efforts in making live shows a real treat. And if you’re confused about their lyrics, this might mean you understand them.(Doru Puscasu - vocals, Mircea Moroianu - guitar, Horia Gridan - bass, Mihai Zorca - drums)
5) Born in Hong Kong. Formerly vocalist and guitarist from the band Little Beautiful Brand and becoming a solo singer-song-writer now. Released two solo records "Grace" and "Freddie and King" under 89268 in Hong Kong. working on his third album which will also be his first ever chinese album. Singles released on www.89268.com and www.oliverching.com for free download.
6) The American band was formed in 2000 by Eric Fischer, Stephan Hawkes, Ben Sprague, and Cory Van Name. They have three albums to their name: their self-titled EP, released in 2000; Quiet Life, released in 2002; and the 2-cd EP set Coming Back in Waves and Time Demands Pain, released in 2005. They are characterized by an upbeat, indie-rock sound.
7) Oliver is also a Finnish rock band.
www.oliverband.net
www.myspace.com/oliverfin
Album: Kauempaa sen tajuaa (2009, OMB-Records Finland)
8) A Sydney indie rock band founded by Jason Slattery and David Orwell with at least 2 EPs recorded:
Mr Blue Sky (1994, Ra Records, 4509988962)
Stars
Touchdown
The Conductor
Everyone's A Fool
Build Your Own Highway
Black Mountain Songs (1995)
Box Of Birds
Mr Blue Sky
Grate
Superfine
One Ninety
So You've Been Created
Cherry Shoes
9) Oliver is an English Vocaloid developed by PowerFX and new VOCALOID company, VocaTone. He is also the first to be released on the VOCALOID 3 product software.
Her
Oliver Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
Unattainable fallacious needs
And when she listens
She derives relieve
She derives relieve
Her initial intuition rarely leads her wrong
And she plays, a pampered con
It wanders on
She leaves a margin for my manner
An eerie meditative influence on my soul
I know, this shy and lingering
Likely, listless
Time of living, I am on will never
See another one like her
The lyrics to Oliver's song "HER" depict a complex and enigmatic character who possesses a captivating and elusive nature. The line "She leaves a manic supercilious pleasing ease" suggests that she has the ability to effortlessly charm and please others, although her true intentions may not always be genuine. She is described as having unattainable and fallacious needs, indicating that she may be chasing desires that are unrealistic or misleading.
The lyrics also highlight her ability to listen and find relief in doing so, indicating that she may have a sense of solace or comfort in being attentive to others. Her intuition is portrayed as rarely leading her astray, suggesting that she possesses a keen sense of judgment. However, she is also seen as playing a pampered con, hinting at a manipulative side to her persona.
The lyrics further emphasize the influence she has on the singer's soul, describing it as an eerie meditative presence. There is a sense of longing and uncertainty conveyed in the lines "I know, this shy and lingering / Likely, listless / Time of living, I am on will never / See another one like her." It implies that the singer recognizes the uniqueness of this person and acknowledges that they may never encounter someone like her again.
Overall, "HER" delves into the complex dynamics of a mysterious character who captivates others with her charm and intuition, while also leaving a lingering sense of ambiguity and uncertainty.
Line by Line Meaning
She leaves a manic supercilious pleasing ease
She exudes a frenetic, arrogant, and pleasing sense of calm
Unattainable fallacious needs
Her desires are unachievable and deceptive
And when she listens
When she pays attention
She derives relieve
She finds solace and comfort
Her initial intuition rarely leads her wrong
Her first instincts are usually accurate
And she plays, a pampered con
She manipulates and deceives, enjoying her privileged position
And of her prudence
And because of her cautiousness
It wanders on
The feeling persists
She leaves a margin for my manner
She allows room for my behavior
An eerie meditative influence on my soul
She has an unsettling and contemplative impact on my inner being
I know, this shy and lingering
I am aware, this timid and persistent
Likely, listless
Probably, without direction or energy
Time of living, I am on will never
This period of my life will never
See another one like her
Encounter someone similar to her
Lyrics © DistroKid
Written by: The Oliver Moore Band
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
Ashlyn Whittington
From A Thousand Mornings:
1:26 Percy
2:42 I Go Down to the Shore
3:35 I Have Decided
4:34 The Way of the World
5:27 The Mockingbird
7:41 Hum Hum
11:33 Hurricane
13:26 After I Fall Down the Stairs at the Golden Temple
13:57 Three Things to Remember
Her older poems:
14:36 Wild Geese
16:10 The Summer Day
17:55 The Journey
19:45 Tecumseh
22:08 When I Am Among the Trees
From A Thousand Mornings (again):
24:08 On Traveling to Beautiful Places
25:25 Tides
Her older poems (again):
26:48 Blue Iris
28:20 Meadowlark Sings, And I Greet Him In Return
29:32 The Man Who has Many Answers
30:01 Mornings at Blackwater
From A Thousand Mornings:
32:15 For I Will Consider My Dog Percy
35:30 The First Time Percy Came Back
36:39 Life Story
39:38 White Heron Rises Over Blackwater
40:50 Little Dog’s Rhapsody in the Night
BUKCOLLECTOR
Brief Bio:
I’m Al Fogel born in 1945 and at an early age began writing poems. In 1962 I was introduced to a neighbor who just returned from Avatar Meher Baba’s “ East west” gathering and handed me a book titled “The Everything and the Nothing” that included brief but powerful passages by Meher Baba that touched me deeply and i became a “ Baba Lover” I continued writing poems and in 2010 while on Jane Reichhold’s AHA website workshopping poems I befriended a Chinese man who helped me perfect my Senryu and Haibun.
Subsequently I am now considered one of the nations leading authorities on Tanka , Senryu, and Haibun.
Here are some examples of each of my specialties
senryu
~
dentist chair
the hygienist removes
my Bluetooth
~
Internet argument
all his words in CAPS
hers in EMOTICONS
~
after the divorce
he spends more time
at the dollar store
~
damsel in distress
clarke kent still searching
for a phone booth
~
cauliflower ears
once a contender
now boxing vegetables
~
under
the influence —
moonshine
~
Audubon sale
all variety of seeds. . .
early birds welcome
~
Buddhist fortune cookie
the unfolded paper reads
“ better luck next birth!”
~
sudden downpour. . .
the adults run
for shelter
** as you can see, senryu is usually humorous, but it can also be serious. For example, the following two of mine are horrific and heartbreaking ( dealing with the Holocaust):
~
cattle cars
between the slats
human eyes
~
stutthof —
the stench of burnt hair
from the chimneys
~
Tanka ( I already posted the Jackson Pollock one about painting his face but here’s another Tanka
~
Here is another Tanka:
thrift store purchase
inside the leather jacket
a tarnished half-heart
~
Haibuns
The Mathematics of Retribution
“Karma is i fathomable,”
I inform her
It’s late and our conversation turns heavy
“ Seems simple to me, “my girlfriend responds.
“If I murder you, then it’s reasonable that I will be murdered in this or another life to balance the ledger.”
“ Not necessarily so” I’m quick to rejoin.
“What if you murdered me in this life
because I murdered you in a prior life
karmic debts and dues are now equalized.”
“But what if I get caught and I go to jail for life. Where’s the equal payback in that?”
“As I said, karma is unfathomable.”
We continue discussing reincarnation and then add the possibilities of “group karma” to the mix
Finally, at about midnight, we fall asleep
Stutthof —
the stench of burnt hair
from the chimneys
~~
Mama
There were days when I pretended to be too sick to go to school - - just for mamas loving embrace —her arms the heat of home
Even with the onset of dementia, her cheerfulness was so contagious it was a joy being around her despite the illness.
She made everyone laugh with her spontaneous unpredictable behavior.
nursing home
bumper wheelchair
her favorite pastime
Once a week I would whisk her away from the assisted-living facility and we would spend several hours together —grabbing a meal or frequenting some of her favorite second-hand stores where she loved to shop and donate clothes.
When we drove to her favorite thrift in November, her dementia worsened.
thrift store
the dress mama donated
she wants to buy
On a cold December morn mama passed.
The funeral was simple. There was a light drizzle as the family gathered at the gravesite. One by one, with eyes full of rain, we said our last goodbyes.
autumn twilight —
oh mama tuck me under
hug me one more time
~
‘Round Midnight
It was a huge ballroom on the top floor of a building on Broadway --an important midtown crossroads in the heart of the Great White Way.
My uncle still talks with reverence about how —in his heyday —he would travel by rail to the corner of Lenox and walk inside to the beat of jungle music. Who knew what to expect? One night you might be listening with rapt attention to Theloneous Monk and Dizzy Gillespie the godfathers of bebop in their signature beret caps, or the Nicholas Brothers flashing their wild acrobatic spins and splits, or enchanted by the sweet taste of Brown Sugar —with Bojangles out front. And when the Bird was in flight, even the moon was not high enough.
But in 1940 the ballroom closed its doors to make way for a commercial housing development and another kind of night.
new Harlem
the a-train replaced
by the bullet
~
Atlantic City New Jersey
I had just graduated from high school
I remember stopping for saltwater taffy —as evening journeyed slowly into night. Nearing curfew, we sat on a protruded sandy enclave--holding hands, looking out at the ocean, not saying much. In the distance the lights from an ocean liner flickered as the night kept coming on in...
first “french kiss”
under the boardwalk
“over the moon!”
~~
All love,
Al
BUKCOLLECTOR
A quality small press mag to submit to is a publication titled “Rattle”
Each issue features a section on prize winning and runner-up poems. I would like to share the following runner-up and when I read it, I fell in love with it. It was written by Diana Goetsch and was published in Rattle’s 2008 Issue #30. I hope you don’t mind me sharing the poem which I consider one of my favorites and hope you enjoy.
**
WRITER IN RESIDENCE, CENTRAL STATE
I’m writing this from nowhere. Oklahoma
if you care. It’s not south, not west, not really
Midwest. Think of a hairless Chihuahua
on the shoulder of Texas, make an X,
I’m in the middle, in an apartment
above the dumpsters on a parking lot
across from a football stadium.
The shriveled leaves of what passes
for autumn scuttle across the blacktop.
Prairie Striders stand under cars saying Hey
fuck you to French pluperfects in the pines.
I’ve renamed the birds. They don’t seem to mind.
In Oklahoma when you say a word
like pluperfect, somehow you’re certain
no one in the state has used it that day.
Sometimes the parking lot feels like a lake,
a lake with light towers and cars on top of it.
Sometimes I see an Indian burial ground
under there. You don’t think of asphalt as earth,
but if they paved the entire prairie—which
seems to be the plan—it would still curve
with the horizon and shine in the sun.
And no matter where you are, if you let
the world quiet down you’ll start to hear
the most terrible things about yourself.
But then, like a teenager, it’ll tire of cursing
and deliver you into the silence of graves.
You’ll look out on the world and see
yourself looking out. Now I know
when monks retreat to the charnel ground
and stay there long enough, the demons
tire of shouting. No battles, no spells: you wait
for them to cry themselves to sleep.
If everyone were healed and well
and all neuroses gone, would there
be anything left to write about?
Maybe just weather and death.
I’d like to die on a mountain in winter
in New Hampshire, the one the old man
climbed, having decided his natural time
was done. How alive he must have been
during that short series of lasts—last step,
last look around, bend of the waist,
head on the ground, the soundless closing
of his lids. How easy to be in love
with the earth, breathing the crystalline air
as he shivered and yawned
and let the night take him home.
Back in New York City there’s a book
of Freud high on a shelf that presided
over far too much. The past, it kept
insisting, the past. There was also a mouse,
who came out whenever I was still
and quiet for long enough. She’d sniff
my foot, go to the floor-length mirror,
then drag her long tail into the kitchen.
At first I set a trap. Then I knew her
to be the secret life of my apartment,
witness to everything without comment,
her visit my reward for keeping still,
for praying in a closet as Jesus advised.
Don’t worry, said a woman last winter.
I can see you’re worried. She had the wrinkled
eyes of an old Cherokee, and spoke of past
lives without a trace of contrivance.
The silence here on weekends is so total
it holds me. Even when the stadium
is full, I don’t hear the people, just the PA
telling who tackled who—who in Oklahoma
was born and raised and fed and coached
to deliver a game-saving hit. I don’t
know where I will be or what I will do
next year, but five miles underground
in the womb of the earth there is
no money, no lack of money, no decisions
about dinner or weekends, friends
or enemies, no stacks of unanswered mail.
I’m trying to live there, so I can live here.
—from Rattle #30 Winter 2009 Honorable Mention
________
Diana Goetsch: “I’m basically a love poet. I’ve started to understand that after all these years. No matter the subject, I think my mission has something to do with redemption. And I just go for the hardest thing to redeem.”
Al
BUKCOLLECTOR
Very much enjoyed your poems and reading. Your unique imagery engaged me throughout.
I, too, am a poet ( and also a fiction story writer which I’ll elaborate shortly but for now let me say I write mostly Japanese format poems i.e. haiku , senryu, tanka/kyoka, haibun etc. I hope you don’t mind me sharing a Tanka and a haiku dedicated to Matshuo Bashō’s frog with added insightful commentary by the late AHA founder and poet Jane Reichhold who considered my haiku among her 10 favorite haiku of all time! What an honor.
Here’s the Bashō poem with Jane Reichhold’ insightful insightful commentary:
Bashō’s frog
four hundred years
of ripples
At first the idea of picking only 10 of my favorite haiku seemed a rather
daunting task. How could I review all the haiku I have read in my life and
decide that there were only 10 that were outstanding? Then realized I was already getting a steady stream of excellent haiku day by day through the AHA forum.
The puns and write-offs based on Basho's most famous haiku are so
numerous I would have said that nothing new could be said with this
method, but here Al Fogel proved me wrong. Perhaps part of my delight in this haiku lies in the fact that I agree with him. Here he is saying one thing about realism–ripples are on a pond after a frog jumps in, but because it refers back to Basho and his famous haiku, he is also saying something about the haiku and authors who have followed him. We, and our work, are just ripples while Basho holds the honor of inventing the idea of the sound of a frog leaping is the sound of water
As haiku spreads around the world, making ripples in more and larger
ponds, its ripples are wider–including us all. But his last word reminds us
that we are ripples and our lives ephemeral. It will be the frogs that will remain.
~~
Now the tanka:
returning home from
a Jackson Pollock
exhibition
I smear paint on my face
and turn into art
~~
Finally, the fictional story that I alluded to earlier. It not only should appeal to Afro-Americans but all individual and groups that experience racial discrimination. It is based on a true incident that took place in the 1950s when racial prejudice was rampant. My story has an unexpected heartwarming ending that coincides with my own belief akin to Dr Martin Luther King’s in a non-violent approach and resolution to racial injustice Titled “ Eloise , Edna And The Chicken Coop”
ELOISE, EDNA & THE CHICKEN COOP
There was once a Black lady named Eloise who inherited from her grandmother a parcel of land in the suburbs of Compton California at a time when there was strong racial prejudice against women of color—especially those Black women who owned property in predominately white neighborhoods.
It happened there lived adjacent to Eloise’s land a white woman named Edna who did not like the fact that this Black woman owned land next to hers.
Eloise would try to be friendly because she believed Jesus when He said “Love Thy Neighbor” and to Eloise that meant even if your neighbor was unfriendly.
But whenever Eloise saw Edna, Edna would turn her back in disdain. In fact, ever since her husband died a decade ago, Edna became mean and unfriendly to everyone in the neighborhood.
But to Eloise, she was so hateful and full of animosity that one night when all the lights in Eloise home were off Edna went to her own backyard where she kept her chicken coop and gathered up all the manure and dumped it on Eloise land and upon her tomatoes and her greens and everything she was growing, in an attempt to destroy it.
And when Eloise realized the next morning that there was all this manure, instead of becoming angry, she decided to rake and mix it in with the soil and use it as fertilizer.
Every night Edna would dump the manure from her chicken coop litter box and Eloise would get up in the morning and turn it over and mix it.
This went on for almost a month until one morning Eloise noticed there was no manure in her yard.
Then one of the neighbors informed Eloise that Edna had fallen ill. But because Edna was so mean and unfriendly , no one came to see her when she was sick.
But when Eloise heard about Edna’s condition she picked the best flowers from her garden, walked to Edna’s house , knocked on her front door and when Edna opened the door, she was in complete shock that this Black Woman who she had been so cruel to, would be the only neighbor to visit
her and bring flowers.
Edna was deeply moved by Eloise kindness.
Then Eloise handed the flowers to Edna who said,
“These are the most beautiful flowers I’ve ever seen! Where’d you get them?”
Eloise replied,
“You helped me make them, Edna, because when you were dumping in my yard, I decided to plant some roses and use your manure as fertilizer.“
This genuine act of kindness opened the floodgate of Edna’s heart that had been closed for so long.
“When I’m feeling better, I would love to have you over for tea,” Edna told Eloise.
“Thank you, “ Edna replied, assuring her she would come. And then added, “I will pray for your speedy recovery every night.”
And with those words Eloise departed.
It’s amazing what can blossom from manure.
There are some who allow manure to fall on them and do nothing.
But then there are others—like Eloise —who “turn the other cheek” when abused or in this case “turn over the soil” to make something new like those bevy of beautiful red roses that opened a white woman’s
heart.
~~
—All love in isolation from Miami Beach, Florida,
-Al
Gigi Dayz
Where are you, Mary?
This morning I stood at the edge of the lake, now slushy with February's moody thaw.
The wild geese were already there
of course.
And as I attempted to apply
a zen lens to my life
and seek to alter
not people or
circumstances
but the way I see them
and how I reply,
it occurs to me that there
are no answers.
Not really.
There is only the sitting still.
The process..the journey
and those concepts which
I made complicated for so damn long.
There is only one energy.
One life.
And as you queried;
'What do you plan to do with it?'
Oh Mary.
I have so many plans.
And dreams, frustrated.
And so often feel paralyzed and inept.
What do you want..and what do you have?
I envision you asking.
I want what I already have.
I have this life. This day.
I have the smiles
of my reedy toddler grandson.
He is growing into all his curiosity and questions, too.
And I have
the juiciness of the gurgling newer boy;
a little apple dumpling of a human.
I have this cup of coffee,
morning elixir
clutched in my sleepy hand.
I have the lyrical gift of Joni on constant rotation, providing a soundtrack for every feeling.
I have two chubby gray cats, who provide soul-healing-
who show me
every day
how to lazily lounge around in the sunny spots, and purr.
I have books to read, and poems to write.
And nature.
Nature gives to us all, and asks no questions.
I suspect that is why you revered it so.
Mary,
when you transitioned
to the other side,
it was if the cornucopia of your mind and heart fell off a ledge and spilled out.
And I am like a hungry bird, digesting your every word.
I have the twin gifts
of inspiration
and interest.
May I share them as freely as you did,
and still do.
I have thankfulness to no longer seek
the lying solace of drink.
I have the gift of words,
and the ability to finally
clearly think.
Where are you flying to today, Mary?
Or, more likely,
are you just meandering on the edge of a mossy marsh somewhere...
scribbling in your worn, tiny notebook,
penning paens to bullfrogs
and that which leaps, crawls,
and takes flight.
Are you smiling your sly grin
like you do ~
as the morning mist kisses you?
I think you are.
2/8/19
scaredycat
I don’t know exactly where you can directly find it but I have memorized 10 lines of it for a English Project
When death comes
Like a hungry bear in autumn
When death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse.
To buy me, and snaps the purse shut.
When death comes
Like the measle pox
When death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades
I want to walk through the door full of curiosity wondering
What is it going to be like; that cottage of darkness?
Jennie Kotoff
What a joyful thing it is to hear Mary read her own delightfully beautiful poems! 💓
Ashlyn Whittington
From A Thousand Mornings:
1:26 Percy
2:42 I Go Down to the Shore
3:35 I Have Decided
4:34 The Way of the World
5:27 The Mockingbird
7:41 Hum Hum
11:33 Hurricane
13:26 After I Fall Down the Stairs at the Golden Temple
13:57 Three Things to Remember
Her older poems:
14:36 Wild Geese
16:10 The Summer Day
17:55 The Journey
19:45 Tecumseh
22:08 When I Am Among the Trees
From A Thousand Mornings (again):
24:08 On Traveling to Beautiful Places
25:25 Tides
Her older poems (again):
26:48 Blue Iris
28:20 Meadowlark Sings, And I Greet Him In Return
29:32 The Man Who has Many Answers
30:01 Mornings at Blackwater
From A Thousand Mornings:
32:15 For I Will Consider My Dog Percy
35:30 The First Time Percy Came Back
36:39 Life Story
39:38 White Heron Rises Over Blackwater
40:50 Little Dog’s Rhapsody in the Night
shahilagh
ashlyn whittington many thanks for this useful information I wish the ppl who upload videos like this do this it makes the work more inclusive for all
Jordan Bowman
Thank you!
camilla di liberto
Thank you so much for this!!
HappyOlives
thank you so much!! <3
pari sanyu
Thank you so much for this...allows me to go back and hear her precious voice...at just the right intersections...
Koko
She is so hilarious! I have tears from laughing throughout her reading. My first time watching and I love her 😍
Olivia Milloway
I fall asleep to this recording about three times a week. Thank you for sharing, and endless thanks to Mary Oliver for assuaging my anxieties when I can’t sleep.
Celeste Dallas
I do the same thing