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
from the mouths of angels voices appeared like bonfires burning from their faces as the last clouds of day melted away their message rose from the edge like a half note of wind it was breath to breath a full measure without error that eternity holds the dreams of the dead
It was an occasion for suspicion a strange arrangement searching for a solemn confession among a pastel of voices like the comma between two good thoughts of invading serpents and invading dreams where the best of plans are assembled for a traveler born wounded to find a way under a keyboard of passing clouds
a stretch of clouds created for a brief moment a perfect opening a separation of white and gray a gift of silence revealing a distant blue ceiling mostly unnoticed until… the clouds quietly reformed into a white flat unbroken carpet
never alone without voice words chase me down while traveling through nameless towns like cats and thieves soft walking through openings in fences where whispers speak and lies wish for the truth never stopping outrunning hunger yet praying for one more heartbeat to see the moon while evening drinks the day dry … More IN THE QUIET
wet pavement rain washes city dust polishing the rust with heavens night showers shining sidewalks beneath an all night diners neon’s ruffled muted images drip past the front door into refuge where sinners have no regrets as they speak of never enough time while exchanging ideas of washed over without washed out … More NIGHT GATHERING
Roger Singer 