The hand of jazz leads me like a river pushing water slowly to the sea. Sounds with soothing hands tug hard like strong twisted rope pulling me wide awake. Each and every time the music washes over me with thirsty licks I fall deep under the spell. … More UNDER THE SPELL
He pulled her in with music, fishing for her eyes to focus on lines he extended. She fingered pearls about her neck, turning them over like wet thoughts of the man on stage. Black ties and buttons hold shirts in place. Cuff links with initials fawn for attention. Hat pins point into the mystery of … More PASSION
Out of Tangiers the fragrance followed. A stack of letters bound with a blue ribbon, wait for the seeds of their thoughts to be watered when their words are read. Suits with ties and jackets unzipped. The conversation moved onto paper with broken pencils until 2am; sleep can wait. Cold water and a third floor … More PARIS HOTEL
Three bells sound within a mist. Sheng Street fills with butterfly light aromas; pillows shine of satin while incense speaks to spirits. A sea of black plaits sway in tides of black shirts. Black unto black, black blends into night. Frozen dragons snarl from smoky dens where voices of ancestors gather in corners. Painted faces … More SHENG STREET
Under the skin, a motor of sound. Molasses fingertips play dark thick jazz. Wet soaked dirt roads kick start the aroma of his thoughts. Smooth perfumed skin smiles into his lust. His mile of strong words runs like a river engine; a power few own. A wind moves on a sweet green growing field. His … More DEEP POCKETS
The spin of his jazz rolls in grand circles twisting, tumbling over angrily into a voice of growls loosed into solid dog eared words flea bitten and worn thin like harvest fields he shouts up with blazes of fire unquenched spreading as if kicked from hell setting up swirling sparks flaming the starving Souls inhaling … More A NEW LANGUAGE
Gusts of air. Turbulent waves, hot and steam filled, rush like running thieves up the subway stairs, circling her hair, teasing the ends of morning care. Her gum snaps like frenzied whips, keeping time with stories she shares. Turnstiles twist like fallen windmills releasing the aroma of rust and useless oils; a fine baptism of … More ANXIOUS EYES
Street lights sign in as dusk resigns to darkness. Scattered shadows of leaves dance on midnight sidewalks. Homes sleep in silence. Dark breezes lift curtain edges, creating life from worn cloth. Porch lights dot the galaxy of streets. Picket fences keep strangers away but ghosts pass through freely. A train whistle, distant yet sharp, bleeds … More MIDNIGHT
She’s got the pain of me in her walking hard on shadows of who we were. Her voice is my jazz favoring thoughts she planted with the water of her touch. We have captured the deep caves of each other seeing in the dark what others with eyes will never grasp.
Blow horn man blow dark out of night with wicked blasts scaring the silence into running. Blow hard knocking down the bones of stand up music into rattling corner dice. Blow long that solid note piercing sharp like a knife cutting deep opening wide the jazz.
Roger Singer 