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
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
An energy wind rolled over gray stones and sand; the spent blood of glaciers. Dark waters, the fluid of night oceans, reflects stars and a crescent cold moon. The last of the clouds discharges a mist; absorbed without voices into horizons . Heaven opens night’s gates, releasing … More NIGHT OCEANS
I sit pleasantly under misshapen clouds where cool linen sweet breezes fan me while pretending I am young running the beach with sandpiper legs king of the day carrying candy and french fries; there is ketchup on my cheek as the waves flush noisily onto a soft sand shoreline where … More SANDPIPER LEGS
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
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 