The overhead rumbling of streetcars on the West Side Line has long passed, along with passengers wearing hats, workmen, excited children, women with shopping bags and lovers whispering. The city has entered an era of new changes while others fight for what was. Trees, weeds and scattered flowers keep company with abandoned tracks and switch … More WEST SIDE LINE
Highway papers scatter the road. Yesterday’s news pressed against the inside of a factory fence. The sky is rose red. The air is moist. There are no songs but the wind gusts a tune. The clouds resemble casual caring hands, resting like sleep while building silently into towers over a landscape full and willing. … More REPLENISH
There appeared a garment of haze. The confirmation of heat and long days. Café umbrellas wept over their canvas sides, softened by a dispassionate sun. No appreciable change was predicted. The curtained weather hung limply. A silken confection of clouds blossomed into mountains. Bulbous and churning they rose in silent eruption … More SILENT ERUPTION
A meadow of stars shined brightly into forevermore where a a small portion of night was pushed aside into a cold place before darkness reclaimed the sky. I start to count the rubies and diamonds above, surrendering my numbers to the dots pasted onto infinity canvas. The lights of a great city offers … More HIGHWAY SKY
Morning pressed in with an undercurrent of calmness, like the repose of a folded napkin next to an empty plate. Windows encourage light. The room undergoes change. Colors appear, revealing life beyond evening grays and the dark of night. Dreams of sadness become absorbed into the arms of daylight. The crossroads of sleep to standing … More THE ENGINE WITHIN
We are the audience of a passing world, the under stage of observing, an indifference to do what’s right at the cost of singled out. The wounds we endure, touched off by salt water opinions and acts of hate, burn to the core, fostering impatience and anger. Repetitious stories attempt To swallow us within the … More UPSTREAM
There’s an area within for safekeeping. A galaxy of swirling words with orderly presence. It’s a corner where a full moon enlightens the darkness of emotional highways, hiding us safely. A disconnect prevents the unpredictable from overtaking expressions; there are no complaints when we hear only our voice. Every opening song is a … More EVERYWHERE
The crossing of shadows marks street windows with blurred reflections absent of color. Quick steps and shoulders slip the stream. The sidewalk is a meadow of shoes, turning, twisting, scuffed and shined, all with purpose and impatience. The people are a mix of ragged granules; the sands of a city shoreline on the move. Eye … More RAGGED GRANULES
From the desert floor a veil of mist rises from the hardships of last night. Everything moves in slow motion. There are no winds to push the sand to the next arroyo. Cactus absorbs mornings moisture. Creatures spread their colors in search of today’s menu. The sky beams a bright blue not listed on any … More DESERT MORNING
Misplaced thoughts are broken stones. The sides of the road hold treasures for those walking by. Old newspapers separate us from yesterday’s tragedies. Wisdom is born in diners and roadside Cafes. Painted signs on old barns hold the innocence of roadside marketing. Paper hats have character against the sun. Popsicles were once five cents. Longer … More TRUTH
Roger Singer 