Raging winds ran the streets like wolves in search of unsuspecting prey. Hats took flight. Garbage can lids spiraled like runaway Olympic discus’. Newspapers trashed the sky with yesterdays sales and obituaries. Hats tumbled like children on the last day of school. Down 7th avenue a gust of random winds created the sound of trains … More ROTTEN APPLE
Early, when light struggles for a place, a black cat steps with velvet feet around last evening’s rains walking the corners like winds touching curtain ends. Shutters stare onto the dampened alley as sun lines spread over cobblestones rich with history. Palm trees breathe into morning. The fronds work the air like a … More BLACK CAT
This town has no easy street. Its not about luck or the draw in favor. Fast shoes keep them moving on sidewalks, all looking the same. Red lights give pause to the race and the prize that fails to praise. The occasional flowers and the best of struggling trees survive in silence in empty … More EMPTY LOTS
The weight of the motion descended in a cloud burdened with the scent of air clinging to rain as it baptized the ground. Tumbling drops foot-printed the soft sand while others merged with puddles, lost to colliding or ripples fading. Quiet prevails as the storm wanders. Sounds of recovery lift from the spell … More FULL WEIGHT
Subways rattle overhead; long corners scream the voice of metal. Below, a street fills with faces. Anxious gazes, newspaper readers, nervous feet, fingers tap, hats tilt; waiting for bus #58. Warm city breezes swirl, painting faces gray and humid. Sweat stains armpits. Foreheads glaze like thin frosting. Collars breath unbuttoned. Sleeves roll up tight. Tiredly … More BUS #58
The brownstone building rises high at the corner. Cornucopia edges run to the corners where fierce concrete gargoyles with mottled teeth repel invisible spirits. Open windows welcome city air. Curtains run ripples on the side. Half pulled shades flutter. Pigeons circle overhead, landing noisily on the ledge. The elderly gather in packs on … More BROWNSTONE
Deep within the soft twists of voices the blessings from angels is woven within the thorns of hearts, releasing a blessing of sweet words like manna on sidewalks as day washes over dusky curtains of faces and shoulders. There is no room for wings within crowds where the language of the streets seeks the weak … More ANGEL WINGS
The back stairway was a passage, an eye opening ritual of shadows and whispers seeking shelter behind a familiar door. Cracked plaster and numerous unknown stains are illuminated by a single light, its wire descending from a dark ceiling, faintly showing the way to go. It was a space without quiet, a conduit from here … More TRAVELERS
There was a brilliance of lights where streets were strung tight. A weaving of shadows and footsteps. Gifts of plenty and excited faces. The evening curtain of infinity space painted a dark background for stars beaming through ages of air. There is nothing fast with night. It covers with blankets the sins of day; the … More STEPPING OUT
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
Roger Singer 