A wind voice caught me out, scratching my window, drawing on the glass with wet finger branches. The sun in on vacation. Somewhere behind cumulous mountains, shining elsewhere on children and cats. Winds buffet in an attempt to separate what man has built. Gray scud clouds slip the wetted land. Puddles reflect between ripples a … More SKY SHOW
There was an assembly of winds colliding silently within the mists of one another. Gray steel clouds disappeared then quickly reformed into an angry turbulent sky. Fields of turned soil blackened over like early night when shadows fade in the presence of half light. A crumbling sun slipped from view, proving boundaries have no limits … More UNCHALLANGED
Paths of dust circle his name, rising like a sun of eyes watching a circle of moons fall into the river of his jazz where he pulls heavy at the waters twisting them up into waves of air cooling the heat of his strides as he swaggers sweetly while the sound crashes on a shoreline … More HIGH ABOVE
COMPANY OF ANGELS I have fallen into company of angels. Brushed by wings of heavens understanding. I am paused, held as if in the comfort of sleep. Though arms spread ocean width, they fail to equal a moment of praise my lips willingly confess. … More COMPANY OF ANGELS
Cannonades of sound spilled out announcing the coming and going of time the salt of thoughts watered with oceans persistent waves like gladiators of foaming armies spreading wide the release of tossing sand and rocks seeking a new level unasked for until lifted by or rolled out to calmer decorated ergs waiting to be tugged … More BACK AND FORTH
The back porch creaks of age as feet press a voice from its surface. A song from a guitar keeps time with the sway of lazy moss. Crickets hungry for noise, satisfy the appetite of their energy. Dusty shoes got the soul of tapping, slapping the ground with the beat … More A NIGHT SONG
A long bleeding whistle strikes the air over a small village. Rattling wheels of the black engine spills steam to the sides where trees grow and children point with curious eyes. The song of shivering metal runs the tracks hard; doors, front lawns, gates and faces all appear the same. The next curve and bend … More 93 MILES TO GO
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
I am swimming in the water of stars. My skin becomes moon soaked with velvet blue and soft sheets of silver. Cool air refreshes my energy. Over shadowed by pines of night green I hold my eyes open, absorbing the greatness of a black distance. I am arrested by the awe at the bottom of … More MY QUIET
The color in me knows the blues, it feels the hands deep pulling to the surface the song of me. Can’t wash away or drain out the fullness crowding my insides where its standing room only in hallways and from chairs full of listeners waiting for the pouring over of what I got. A song … More THE BANK OF BLUES
Roger Singer 