The jazz sweeps the lonesome form me feeding my needs and filling my wants digging into deep and pulling up like an anchor rising from the a dark blue breaking the gold blue surface releasing my pain spinning it like a top faster into fast onto the floor past dancing feet … More BREAKING SOUND
The eyes of the fighters speak with growling deep from black souls escaping to the surface. Sweat drips to a stained canvas. Blood soon releases from open wounds cut by leather. The crowd sounds a battle cry. as the bell rings. Adrenalin charges the feet to stand. Fists rise like cannons as the men circle, … More FISTS RAISED
His fingers owned the strings releasing freely treasures slipping to earth. Notes competing with stars lighted dark skies like Christmas every night. His head snapped to the beats bursting in air then settled slow into soft. Sweat channeled long with drips from his passion as he breathed out the jazz.
An alley. The warm side. Red bricks mortared with sweat. Black pipes track to the roof. A radio bubbles the air. Sad songs like cold air drop into shadows. A window watcher. Second floor. Beneath the fire escape. Fingers prying apart white blinds. Viewing below; eyes deep set, hidden in a cave, protected, revealing nothing. … More WINDOW FINGERS
A twist of air boldly pushes past August light; a song of different color; the end of summer. Night air signals the aroma of change. Cooler breezes mark time like a parade turning a corner. No wall of wishes prevents the rolling pattern weaving around me; I am a … More THE NOTHING ZONE
Somewhere between the sleep of death and breath of life I linger within when my eyes like yours close for day and open for night in blackness deep where sounds are crushed into voices and faces twist into paintings of who I know or who I’ve seen when … More DRINKING SLEEP
Night chords drip a slow pace. Porches fill with moving voices. The ice in drinks mix with perfume and sweat. The bass man spills the passion while his hands create a sound blessing. He has a garden of jazz to release. Colors in the crowd move forward, bright with face, soft in … More INSPIRATION
The factory. River water pushes in electric out. Stoic faces, busy hands, leaning forward, tools clanking, assembly lines organizing, textiles, metals, lathes and labor, pallets and wire. Row houses, red brick, open windows, curtains lipping the corners, pipes with steam, chimneys black belching, parking lots and fences, green service doors, fans spinning, workers in overalls, … More MILL TOWN
Heavy, with the frame of a big man through a crowd, the storms front rolled in, like horses running wild. Winds viciously slapped trees, lifting objects to weak with weight into the turbulence of electric clotheslines dancing and windows rattling like angry snakes or unburied bones. Doors yielded to great … More RUSTY HINGES
His sound developed out of water, dripping like icing from cakes; sweet liquid fingers anger the gods. Flat oceans hold a deep energy he draws from, like waves rushing over unbelieving eyes, salting the pain onto cellophane skin where it all shouts release. Rocks cool from scattered rain, where spots join into a gloss as … More CELLOPHANE SKIN
Roger Singer 