TO THIS PLACE His music shook a thundering from the sky where white and black clouds rained down in the same color splashing fast onto faces the clean washing sprit of jazz spreading arms of welcome over cities where the land lay broken, softening the eyes of some but not all as the music storm … More TO THIS PLACE
THICK COLLARS His living walked the halls of roads where branches pointed his direction. His coats thickness covered a chest with a heart for home. Lifting and pushing is the job of his hands; working the wrong side of each day. Breezes tease the edge of his hat, rubbing his face, forcing … More THICK COLLARS
A face on a flag, the wind gives it voice. Steam from the day retires nights grasp. Horns and lights, the blood of cities, pull at the weak. People envy the closure of circles, the place where end is welcomed and faces are familiar. Lights breathe onto crowded shorelines where people … More RESTLESS
A door slams with a rattle into night. Footsteps pass. The sound of a stranger. A face unknown. The high tide of whiskey and smoke soaks the shorelines of sidewalks As a city lowers its night curtains. Tipped hats and high coat collars wade the flow through streams of streets. Street lights. Fallen stars. Harbors … More STREET LIGHTS
His voice competed boldly against sidewalk clutter and boisterous buses hissing to abrupt stops. His beard twisted like ocean ropes to his chest, brushing over the top portion of a blue or maybe green shirt; gray stained pants and untied boots creased from roughness completed his wardrobe. He lifted with authority a bible, quoting verses, … More STREET MAN
A first breath builds within; a crying life births a soul into notes for the living. Music pulled from years of hard blues sets firmness into a laboring of sounds darkly moaning lost names. Jazz stirred from the pain of absent arms and lips without smiles scratches wounds into bleeding; paths of scars have no … More LISTENING EYES
Late night breezes drift over cooling sidewalks, circling vendors with hands of profit and eyes labored with sleep. Paper lanterns, the skin of butterflies twist lazily, casting light fragments onto storefronts and strangers. Voices, parts of sentences and half words pass under weathered awnings; the air is thick like legs running underwater. Lime Street breathes … More LIME STREET
I move about in seasons I call my own knowing people, the names I sometimes forget, but not the back doors where diners are served. dogs like me, following my steps knowing something about me, liking the traveling I do. Kids think I’m funny, cause I never grew up, and … More I’M OK
The air had an aroma of mischief, unshaven faces, sweaty collars, dancers and players all fashioned under a darkness, rising in song, raising with voices the chance of a gathering on red dirt roads where magnolias steal the senses and whispers rule the night while fingers become the language under stars without names and in … More MISCHIEF
Walk to me the songs crawling silently like cats at night stalking the dark with eyes piercing deep into me. Tie my thoughts with the strings of a righteous bass preaching sternly to my ears the message of jazz. Help me snap my fingers free like running legs of children against the wind, never … More TEACH ME THE JAZZ
Roger Singer 