A Tribe Called Quest / Bonita Applebum


“autumn sun” a poem by Donna Fleischer

autumn sun
this paper also
husk of harvest,
plane of bounty, acorn
knob of plenty
accruing upon an eastern poplar table
shaped by the awl of will
burled, buried essences reveal
the thickening squirrel’s tail,
the big slowing down toward winter, a
gathering up of potential
energy, flashing inward, breathing
down the quick dead pockets of death
Donna Fleischer

I Don’t Want To Set The World On Fire / The Ink Spots

in the bare spindly tree    one bird’s song

Donna Fleischer

Datarock / Fa Fa Fa

I AM KLOOT / I still do, Manchester Academy 14 Feb 09

Rastrelli Cello Quartett Piazzolla / Oblivion