the whereabouts of being unknown on a traveled road with curves and long straights walking a town, suspicious eyes whispers and turns brother can you spare, where the diner is? a meal like others, garnished with haste to the road outside that knows my name we are friends
a dark blanket, thick, holding infinity above the beyond and beyond, absent of time undisturbed by winds unmoved by seasons selfish quarter year demands or rain touching every hand, silk soft, with the aroma of clouds, as I gaze upward into the black stretched linen at chariots and horses passing over, collecting wishes I surrendered … More STARRY WAITS THE NIGHT
forgiveness looks back from the mirror with half smiles, like the lesser wings of angels it’s the time lost, the unscheduled acts of life, trapped in water, with the allure of youth washed out in scars and wounds wrinkles unstoppable speak a visible war of seasons in constant forward motion … More A MIRRORS VOICE
sadness the uncontrolled wind the draining of a sink silent thoughts positioned from those close campfires without smoke smoldering reigniting the lips water over the eyes a baptism with ashes as the heart asks for one more beat and the feet for another step
to brave the change the unknown on a park bench feeding pigeons, eagles in another life while enjoying the green as leaves scratch in winds way boys throwing stones dogs on leashes with angry eyes walking on paths around ponds as day is completed much like yesterday and tomorrow
invisible winds twisting clouds gray shadow prints crawl past a deepening of humidity changing without introduction rain presses in lightening blasts thunder hammers fog blankets …and then blue sky infinity slips within the circle where we stand
a thought of ink onto paper casual words in a half shell pushing out rain water from the past stories about stories some greater than before others weak or forgotten as more rain blemishes all it touches even the wings of angels who carefully listen
escaping the fire the inside burn of scars sharp word blades wounding bloodletting as courage lines up within marching against rising tides and the instruments we fight a lesson of learn and recover watered over smoldering without damage
the meadow absorbs a light morning rain breathing it out by late afternoon as I walk through with my arms extended vortices from rising vapors twist off the ends of my hands forming contrails drifting silently to the ground without any evidence as I reach the other side
falling knives and unmarked graves suspicious eyes serpents and fire cold scales, warm venom on the desert floor as day heat fails to night cold and folds of winds usher in cool flat air like ankle deep water and the pull of tides you run for life with busy feet crossing to safety on the … More DESERT SHORT CUT
Roger Singer 