Innocent violence creates the sediment of the street. The people, the open windows, full of colors, spirits lifting out of gray shadows and black roads. The streets are never satisfied, always hungry, hands reaching Hammering voices, Words speaking loud and sweat dripping. City spirits drift uneasy, searching alleys for faces hiding. … More HIGH GROUND
Long whispers. Unachieved destinations. Serenity consumed. Overwhelming choices folded into one decision. Street people dancing. Resentful workers sidestepping random faces. Phones ring. Buses hiss to stops. The aroma of hot dogs and lunch. Silent faces. Worried thoughts. Fast steps. Escalators jammed. Subways overloaded. There is unity in motion. The desire to leave. The hope to … More WALKING TO WORK
We are the audience of a passing world, the under stage of observing, an indifference to do what’s right at the cost of singled out. The wounds we endure, touched off by salt water opinions and acts of hate, burn to the core, fostering impatience and anger. Repetitious stories attempt To swallow us within the … More UPSTREAM
One in the morning. I stretch, turning off the light. My book falls to the floor. Looking up, a cerulean mist hangs as my eyes adjust. A curtain of black soon covers the room. A diesel truck passes by below. A window shuts in anger. The night stand clock hums out of tune; an electric … More EARLY
Long whispers. Unachieved destinations. Serenity consumed. Overwhelming choices folded into one decision. Street people dancing. Resentful workers sidestepping random faces. Phones ring. Buses hiss to stops. The aroma of hot dogs and lunch. Silent faces. Worried thoughts. Fast steps. Escalators jammed. Subways overloaded. There is unity in motion. The desire to leave. The hope to … More WALKING TO WORK
It’s a high place. A steep yielding to barren openness. A story of peoples, strong, rigid as the soil, long suffering, squinting at a low sun. Crowded forests dream of wide horizons while shouldered tight to branches unlike their own. City people. The release of flesh onto streets and into buildings; the exhaust of words … More A LOW SUN
Lazy snake trains slumber overhead, listing hard into long rusty corners, rattling like bones in pain resembling old men walking to the park. Dark cafes list yesterday’s menus where hungry hands rain down with forks and sharp knives, scratching plates while lovers kiss and strangers stare. Sidewalks spotted … More YESTERDAYS MENU
A Song full of horns fell out an open window, splashing the air while reaching the sidewalk where passerby’s failed to notice the temporary comfort. Tenement dogs growled nervously at barefoot children. Colorful chrome decked cars and men with hats cruised by. A police siren attempted order. A young man ran into the alley. Like … More TENEMENT RISING
Songs of subways overhead press out the language of day as they weave, screeching the overload in corners, releasing sparks while heads inside sway without control. Shadow art on the pavement below scripts across cars and people, into alleys then splashes jaggedly onto store fronts. The aroma of diesel fuel, creosol, standing water, barrooms, exhaust … More MOSTLY IGNORED
There are visions of highway men late at night. Cars slow, looking about. Weary travelers without planning. Sounds increase past midnight, raising caution and suspicion. Ragged freight trains punch pull through town. Dogs sleep off day with restless legs and twitching ears, chasing spirit cats in dreams. A church bell runs out three. Thieves fail … More LATE, VERY LATE
Roger Singer 