A door slams with a rattle into night. Footsteps pass. The sound of a stranger. A face unknown. The high tide of whiskey and smoke soaks the shorelines of sidewalks As a city lowers its night curtains. Tipped hats and high coat collars wade the flow through streams of streets. Street lights. Fallen stars. Harbors … More STREET LIGHTS
Hidden in the narrow path we take are a life of words like vines twisting we reach and choose improving by expression, the hope of blending in. But without direction our internal light fades, our steps become entangled altering our direction and creating within a shadow without form. If we follow by prayer … More NARROW PATHS
Day sheds its skin. The low bass of time moves daylight to its end. Streets open their hands to my arms and feet. Low light. Last light puddles. Dusk coughs a last breath. Night paints faces with shadows. Windows shut. Whispers find corners where promises are broken. Hats tip and collars rise. A cool breeze … More NIGHT WALK
The notes sing to me. A grandma spiritual; warm evenings, bugs buzzing on yellow lights, a fever of warmth. Night solid with dark; the breath of men gasp tired. I see my youth. A ball of knots. Tied up in love, broken under the weight of tears; running eyes, inhaling life into my soul. The … More I SING THE REMEMBERS
Great stone walls made by hand stand with protection Like battlefield shields against enemy attack the bulwarks and redoubts the strength of man holding back the enemy by skill and might. Though plans are made to safeguard your space a crease in the armor and a crack finally forms to the heart of the soul … More A CRACK IN THE ARMOR
I’ve shadowed my youth with arms raised, dancing the full aroma of summer while my feet discover unknown paths. My skin feeds on the colors of day as I melt with warm sand near waters of Egyptian green and blue; I strike the surface with stones. I have the memories of days … More EGYPTIAN NIGHT
Ears grasped for the message in her sound dripping hard and heavy with soul preaching a righteous pain she earned from long nights and bad kisses where tired eyes and wrong desires begged for the shelter of a soft shoulder listening to broken dreams rupturing from the darkness of her … More EARNING THE PAIN
The dust of towns, flat, lifeless. Cold winds and red neon’s fill the need of his searching as he walks the dirt. A song with flavor branded in his head and on his arm, marches his feet to travel; all places look the same. His guitar breathes with sound; a crooked smile slides from … More WALKING THE DIRT
Rising golden and draining warm onto painted houses and wooden wharfs long streaks of sun touch Coit’s tower and sacred hills. Down on Fillmore and Columbus with class where jazz sits strong and grows pulling like lines of hungry fish snapping at sourdough. Across the golden arms and from … More SOURDOUGH JAZZ
People shaped clouds form silently overhead as radio voices compete with ocean waves sliding onto timeless beaches. A lounge chair, enameled white, basks pale under a hot yellow star; quartz granules, ergs of broken time lap at its scratched wooden legs. Cigarette smoke circles from pointing fingers. Flying low, a plane pulls a message with … More ALMOST AUGUST
Roger Singer 