The flash of late night neon’s offered hope and rescue to sidewalk followers searching out the end of day watching the eyes of those passing. Flatbush Avenue ran the beat of alive never sleeping, holding tight the sounds of city language. Traffic lights measure time, guarding the roads … More FLATBUSH AVENUE
Off from the valleys and streams water slips to thick rivers of motion under bridges past hillsides and towns born with history bowing to water rolling strong into ocean carpets blue with thin green diamond sparkled wave tops joining the greater amassed bodies on the earth wider than arms can … More MOVING WATER
Dusk rallies curtains of low level mist forming pillows of rolling fog colliding silently into trees, fences and tilted tombstones. Small noises become shadow art, twisted into what could be the errors of nature or beasts that chase us in dreams. Silence along stonewalls fosters an anxiety of thoughts; fear … More ALONE AT NIGHT
The jazz rises creamy smooth, a tasteful air into a city laughing under a black moon where shadow life’s find the jive and voices crackle with scratchy rhythm and snappy fingers, jamming words, pulling and stepping knocking the plaster free where windows and doors open spreading the flames, feeding a fire from the Apple to … More OTHER SIDE
People gather on fire escape balconies clapping a beat into night winds as musicians in the street below lure the people closer with sound as the reason to reason spills from a half blood moon releasing rhythm legs to be free as a warm shower of jazz spills into humid … More DEEP OF DEEP
The town didn’t care an ocean was nearby; diamond winking waves on a waiting shoreline. Voices small; determined shovels and pails. Hot dog aroma, birch beer fizzing on ice. The place where sand and water merge. Eons of friendship between rocks and splitting mountains. Valleys lay open; byproducts of friction. Under the nose of the … More OCEAN NEARBY
The press of air lays flat onto me, drying my sweat on a life of skin, the surface flavor of salt, the product of my drifting released to run onto my face and arms, its paths random like the day of wandering under city shades and shadows from trees and buildings where streets warm with … More NIGHT BLANKETS
Lights of night blink like stars there up on the hill of Rivertown where music rolls fat down to waters edge soaking ears into smiling willing souls as they cool tired feet in the muddy dark silky quiet currents flowing with the power like the jazz rushing down to them from on high like morning … More RIVERTOWN
It’s almost time for the remembrance of summer as cool August mornings signal September’s expectant entry. The air is different, less humid, lacking early blossomed aroma, clear of humid swells that join to your skin with sweat. Clouds appear sharp and flat, thinly spread onto a less than blue sky. Afternoon rains have moved south. … More MAYBE
We open the cottage door; another season. The air is stale. The rooms echo a hollowness, reminding me of long winter days preceding our arrival. My bed stands alone, neatly made, scattered clothes and shoes have yet to adorn it. My sister sits on the couch wishing we had a phone. The windows are jammed … More OPENING DAY
Roger Singer 