an image within a song showing up before you arrive appearing bigger in the eyes of yourself and where you are on a front porch as a door opens like the words you push in the swing at days end and a front light forming a circle where dew and toys share space … More CLIMBING THE MOON
you surrender to the story, a collision of opinions slipping through cerebral picket fences while avoiding the bad dog of loneliness pretending again for a new ending to the fire and madness, the undercurrent of failings, remembering the good of what should be the best part of any dance as your arms reach around to … More REINVENTING
it fell from me a cut within, opening, releasing past spirits onto crossroads of unusual travel, past side streets and alleys leaving behind distressed wreckage and unexplained endings where the brave and exhausted eventually meet
the words ceased like the flame from a candle, once bright now a line of swirling gray smoke the silence between them was unbalanced resembling the uncommon brick on the wall each soul unprepared for despair or a miracle, summer or winter but, it was trenched in cold, the autumn of rain … More SEPARATE PATHS
He was a mountain of few words a river flowing through the house, mostly out. Conversations were awkward creating uncomfortable moments, too many to count. His love was his work a place he escaped to without guilt of leaving those behind, considering it his duty; I knew he would rather be somewhere else. He grew … More MY FATHER
under a crescent moon strangers find company with me like and open window where caution is fleeting, long on chances short on faith and explanations failing we are performers with blurred experience, cold to the skin like wet gauze or a spotlight on a road searching for a comfortable end
words I know falling on me from clouds and infinity skies like blizzards of fire or moonlit letters of shadowed memories flowing down reminding, slipping within morning and evening buried in the breath under every sun and moon recalling the moments never to return
after the fire we are ashes, airborne, tumbling, gray flake shadows barley an image a winged spirit over the wall to the other side hiding in plane sight pounding out a direction to another place angry, but free accepting the thunder and the sun
night, a silent voice eyes fold satin smooth chances and memories walk across thoughts to the other side destiny and legacy hold the cards as impatience opens another door into a large room of what was lost with a small box of what was found
each year a roadside meadow bordered by stonewalls breathes a harvest of wild flowers and weeds sharing soil and space rain and wind seasons of change providing evidence of a glorious gift
Roger Singer 