A long bleeding whistle strikes the air over a small village. Rattling wheels of the black engine spills steam to the sides where trees grow and children point with curious eyes. The song of shivering metal runs the tracks hard; doors, front lawns, gates and faces all appear the same. The next curve and bend … More 93 MILES TO GO
The music sweet and long fell trapped in the moment swirling fat and brown like rivers powerful with push greeting with respect the notes released telling a story of the ups of down and the down of being up too long as the sound rolled around speaking soft finding its own way into the wide … More FINDING ITS OWN
Flat is the water, where dreams roll over past chances and hands with palms exposed pleading truth and roads chosen too soon release darkened unfamiliar clouds where thunder presses the chest and rain washes the better part of shadows from the skin while tired legs search and find glimpses of places where words breathe uneasily … More FAST WITH FLOW
Long whispers. Unachieved destinations. Serenity consumed. Overwhelming choices folded into one decision. Street people dancing. Resentful workers sidestepping random faces. Phones ring. Buses hiss to stops. The aroma of hot dogs and lunch. Silent faces. Worried thoughts. Fast steps. Escalators jammed. Subways overloaded. There is unity in motion. The desire to leave. The hope to … More WALKING TO WORK
The circle of music. A muse of language. Ups in high and low with downs. The circle complete. Rounding into jazz. Straight roads with curves, paintings without colors, water fountains wet with voices dividing the air. Magnolia sounds catch the June bug, lightening the circle in my chest, setting afire lights, allowing me to see … More CURIOUS LINE
It’s a high place. A steep yielding to barren openness. A story of peoples, strong, rigid as the soil, long suffering, squinting at a low sun. Crowded forests dream of wide horizons while shouldered tight to branches unlike their own. City people. The release of flesh onto streets and into buildings; the exhaust of words … More A LOW SUN
The pleasure’s got his pain, as tides rise and colors slip the doors speaking his jazz into high corners where names of him reach the dogs of night, feeding their growl, fueling the thoughts of love lost in the leaving of shoes and the rooms of broken visions left behind and the darkness of smiles … More FAT WITH JAZZ
A black Oldsmobile. Chrome tips. Dinosaur eyes. Red leather seats; the chariot ride for kings. The jazz men merge through the doors. Cigarettes pulse the black air. The radio bebop’s and fingers tap; white walls kiss the road. Long nights and roads. Strange doors. Diners flash neon. Meatloaf warms the soul; the jukebox slips a … More BLACK AIR
A blue carbon sky. The appearance of cold metal pressed between heaven and the dust of nameless souls. Ocean winds press the corners of waters, exciting foamy waves while washing glass thin over rocks and fallen branches. Long thin gray clouds, fingers without hands, stretch like spilled arrows pointing to no place; they fade without … More A FAIR DAY
I am swimming in the water of stars. My skin becomes moon soaked with velvet blue and soft sheets of silver. Cool air refreshes my energy. Over shadowed by pines of night green I hold my eyes open, absorbing the greatness of a black distance. I am arrested by the awe at the bottom of … More MY QUIET
Roger Singer 