an open window,white curtains attempting to escape windward below, a dirt alley between wooden shacks a train yard, open empty boxcars, idle iron heat, miles behind, miles to go lumber to be loaded, men with caps sit shaded like tumble weeds waiting for a wind of orders to move
GRAVEDIGGERS soft dirt foot print on a fresh grave, a death bed of brown earth and a few small stones, shovels lean on a wooden shed where inside two men play cards, soiled fingers sweaty shirts the odor of work in their hair, they snort and spit rising slowly cursing the heat and … More GRAVEDIGGERS
he sits, sipping his tea on a porch before meadows and mountains familiar to his voice and supplications, under stars and bright sun, considering dreams, some real some reminders of a good life with songs brightly sung and poetry, the puzzle of words, that some plainly grasp, but for a few, the message remains deep … More CLEARLY
candlelit shadows collide as hands reach and then withdraw in the room upstairs soaked with comfortable aromas and layers of dust where men with rough shirts and weathered hands toss dice at the crease of wall and floor smoking cigarettes speaking softly when the dice bite back or rise for the moment with luck
spinning, parts of being together, captured grace defying gravity, bending with sound within the dance and beyond in steps and turns opening all sides to a place achieved of unspoken language transcending seasons with hope and the chance you’ll always be there
pressed under dunes are ancient paths, rocks and skeletons lying beside evidence covered and then recovered, preserving the voices where they remain absorbed within disorder and perfection, uncaring of seasons, while forever protected within ancient layers
he sees ghosts and speaks to clouds while sneering menacingly at people and dogs church bells nearby ring out praise and guilt clouds knit together, breezes circle salvation walks backwards sometimes retrieving the innocent while rejecting the poor
oh cousin, I know the depth of your heart as the tides swirl within life’s indifferences, as you salvage a smile, with two steps forward, shouldering strength in the evidence of good works, blessed to you to give away, with so much more stored within the engine driving your soul
gusting wind greedily formed unsettled air, flexing its might around corners and curves, breeching walls attacking great and small, creating mayhem as a signature of unfathomable strength, unquestioned and free to disturb.
we stand under a moon gazing upward at its silver face from our earthly spinning diorama of cities and oceans where we silently gather, leaning on the uncertainty of our place, questioning without answer, the miracle suspended in a dark sky
Roger Singer 