He was a shirt with a covering resembling a man of awkwardness and self lacking, a foundering creature swimming upstream in rivers of passing faces darkened by clouds and shadows moving where uneasiness forces him to familiar corners where tight angled walls warm him finding favor with his quiet life without need for beyond where … More AN EMPTY SHIRT
Cruel splashes of blue neon lights curiously push into an open apartment, window to where a man sits looking out. Below voices of strangers pass on the sidewalk, their shoes tap and scuff to the corner where they blend into traffic. Music lightly filters up. A warm breeze touches the arm of the … More OPEN WINDOW
TEN SECONDS A distant rumbling amplified the silence around me. My breathing roared within me. I whispered lightly, making sure I wasn’t deaf. I held my breath and then released it into ambient stillness. The clouds possess a cotton smoothness. The leaves appear asleep, unconcerned for impending winds and rain. I feel insignificant at the … More TEN SECONDS
There are a number in hiding, an invisible color, like hedgerows, self-protecting, settling into quiet corners, pulling at their shadow, building on the strength of alone. They are the crowds of the unnoticed, claiming an unwanted seat where they feel secure. They are end tables of thought, conspiring with overthinking, finding comfort as the part … More QUIETLY ALONE
GRAY AND FLAT A following of suitcases, faces moving under gray metal skies. Faith long ago leaped away, claiming a lost kingdom from a ragged past. Abandoned without gain they all walk city streets, moving in mass around corners past lights and buildings. They follow without leading. Regularly looking back.
We awake within a thin state of dreaming, half there and the other part opening up with a stretch. The song of city streets releases motion. An early overcast creates pale chalky grey shadows onto faces hurrying and stained sidewalks. A harmonica in apartment 2-B ripens by the minute. The sound works to blend a … More ANOTHER MORNING
He lifts the boxes without effort, small or large as if the same. His features are commonly obscure, a fighters face with a broad nose, three scars on the forehead and an ear blossoming. His skin is traveled. Working hands explode from the ends of his sleeves. He wears a baseball hat and duct tape … More THE WORKER
Roger Singer 