GRAY AND FLAT A following of suitcases, faces moving under gray metal skies. Faith long ago leaped away, claiming a lost kingdom from a ragged past. Abandoned without gain they all walk city streets, moving in mass around corners past lights and buildings. They follow without leading. Regularly looking back.
I AM NEAR Nestled behind a row of kingly pines a winking moon steps between branches where silence finds comfort in darkened angles and leaning shadows. Jagged lunar light crosses over paths. The wind is silent, adding to night’s strength. I am alighted in the direction of home. My boots … More I AM NEAR
Breaths of songs burst out like laughter rising with fever, sending souls into jumping with sounds of thunder, fat and rolling. Wallpaper edges slip their glue while thick windows rattle like teeth cold chattering in frigid winds. The horns dip hot with jazz blowing a reverence of pure beginnings … More HOT WITH JAZZ
A night song drifted past weeping mid-summer magnolias as it marks a pathways thru cool pockets of air to an opening where voices shadow whisper weaving end day stories to capture hearts. Midnight calls without alarm. Time has no respect. A crescent moon finds space between passing clouds. The field receives a carpet of silver. … More AN OPEN FIELD
THE LONG AND SHORT A naked night, void of stars, opens a canvas of black where a moon, in the corner of space lays captured. It is a black and white night, a photo with shades and shadows with cool skin and eyes like diamonds. The shape of a … More THE LONG AND SHORT
We awake within a thin state of dreaming, half there and the other part opening up with a stretch. The song of city streets releases motion. An early overcast creates pale chalky grey shadows onto faces hurrying and stained sidewalks. A harmonica in apartment 2-B ripens by the minute. The sound works to blend a … More ANOTHER MORNING
He lifts the boxes without effort, small or large as if the same. His features are commonly obscure, a fighters face with a broad nose, three scars on the forehead and an ear blossoming. His skin is traveled. Working hands explode from the ends of his sleeves. He wears a baseball hat and duct tape … More THE WORKER
Flames lick the straw and the suitcases we pack over a lifetime with vulnerable items we adore. We wonder without speaking, what lasts, what remains the day without perishing? Building is more than walls, it’s a foundation buried deep; stones for support, the strength that lasts. Fire burns, water … More BEAUTY FOR ASHES
Talk to me oh bass with wells deep and voices strong as if the earth were grinding under the souls of us snapping fingers like the pop of July 4th as stars explode high in wide skies untouched by voices but regularly with the rub of strings the bass man slides alive
The rising aroma of fresh bread circles up with intent within a tight shaded alley attacking the senses of appetites full of empty. Like thieves drawn to open windows the magic of leaven lifts like carpets full of magic owning the air with thoughtful desires of tasty jewels. … More FULL OF EMPTY
Roger Singer 