The notes had feet running me down with slaps to my face speaking hard of the pain forged in rooms with smoke and ice as the beat jumped me like thieves intent on harm bruising with jive a blues fat with thick and jazz painted black. running songs fast to catch them all shaking … More BRUISING WITH JIVE
Words become a watershed, the express of desire, a fountain draining to the ground, forming streams of release. The engine of day caresses the eyes as they mirror the images of streets and voices crowding into fast lines. Hats hold close the thoughts, while hands point or find pockets for rest. … More STREET NOISE
The hand of jazz leads me like a river pushing water slowly to the sea. Sounds with soothing hands tug hard like strong twisted rope pulling me wide awake. Each and every time the music washes over me with thirsty licks I fall deep under the spell. … More UNDER THE SPELL
He pulled her in with music, fishing for her eyes to focus on lines he extended. She fingered pearls about her neck, turning them over like wet thoughts of the man on stage. Black ties and buttons hold shirts in place. Cuff links with initials fawn for attention. Hat pins point into the mystery of … More PASSION
Three bells sound within a mist. Sheng Street fills with butterfly light aromas; pillows shine of satin while incense speaks to spirits. A sea of black plaits sway in tides of black shirts. Black unto black, black blends into night. Frozen dragons snarl from smoky dens where voices of ancestors gather in corners. Painted faces … More SHENG STREET
Under the skin, a motor of sound. Molasses fingertips play dark thick jazz. Wet soaked dirt roads kick start the aroma of his thoughts. Smooth perfumed skin smiles into his lust. His mile of strong words runs like a river engine; a power few own. A wind moves on a sweet green growing field. His … More DEEP POCKETS
The spin of his jazz rolls in grand circles twisting, tumbling over angrily into a voice of growls loosed into solid dog eared words flea bitten and worn thin like harvest fields he shouts up with blazes of fire unquenched spreading as if kicked from hell setting up swirling sparks flaming the starving Souls inhaling … More A NEW LANGUAGE
A high lunar slice silver painted a sterile face unlikely warm soundless suspended solidly overhead where hinges in heaven slip it over nights curved sky speeding to a place over there where people point at shards of light reflecting on water hoods of cars windows the ancient stone the Mona Lisa moon half smiling. … More MONA LISA MOON
She was a chance for good air the beginning of song released in the wings of her words bold with color strong with history on the stage where she worshipped the words opening black nights with subtle breezes like her travel to towns blurred with names and faces melting into … More SUBTLE BREEZES
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 … More HIGH GROUND
Roger Singer 