The pull of gravity provides a slow blink of reality and caution. Unfamiliar dreams of eyes with stars, kings of stone, and watch towers under gray slate skies create the beginning of desperate ambitions. Repentant knees drop with emotion, praying for pockets of hope and second chances.
The room filled dark with twists where shadow vapors of crossed arms and legs on a wall flashed under low beamed lights capturing a motion of souls bathing warm like angels walking over clouds high above an earth beat of rotating full sounds until the moon rises pressing out the cold with voices melting … More STEP FAST
A quiet horizon slowly absorbs a flat bronze evening sky, its edges melting into a dusky mist. There were no low rumbles or gusts of wind or clouds forming and reforming; a weighted silence pressed down onto a solemn ground. It was a moment of looking up, Wondering what would be next. Preparing for change. … More NIGHT QUIET
It’s a phase of forgotten. An answer that never started with a question. Eyes are the pools of the lost and found, the abyss of hate and the shallowness of love. Words start the day igniting attitudes with fire. Where thoughts were once idle now strike hard with metal drive. Songs drift … More DAY LONG
What lies between is the cold unspoken thought, resting in calm reserve. The between is the space between a breath, the tides and love and hate. The between is uncounted time. The area where clouds change and then disappear. The between is the beginning right after the end. Its where we all start, and where … More IN BETWEEN
Words tumble. Catching one out. Proving a point or wounding a heart. Dark storms brew within the thoughts. Like a rising tide flowing out quick to sooth or heavy with pain. In the corner of the mind where shadows whisper, comparing and dissecting ideas and dreams preparing a path for words going out. Even at … More BUILDING BLOCKS
His jazz is thick, mantled in hair black with twists rich with shine absorbing the lights as his hands push the track of strings chasing demons of his love while fingers run over fences in his mind into shadowed alleys where smoke chokes the air as his eyes close he slaps the bass awakening the … More SLAPPING STRINGS
There’s a slide, a stretch a long slip of breathing out a note where pausing ain’t considered when the soul of air presses and releases a tight hold speaking the easy from the brass of his trombone. A late Friday night jive bleached white a Sunday sound of jazz pushing back the crowd like … More BORN TO HIM
In the presence of magnolias in full bloom as silver fingers of moss sway warm with summer, voices exchange hearts under the light of a talking moon. Clouds have long folded into nothingness. Soft aromas flood the thoughts. A coolness settles on the skin. The upside of bats turn angles into artwork. A fine dew … More FRONT PORCH
Roger Singer 