A ceiling fan roams lazily among stale air. Seated below a man, his pants worn thin, a stained shirt from past dinners; he leans, listening to a radio. A voice wrinkles past square brown cloth covered speakers, echoing on naked plaster cracked walls. Cigarette smoke lifts in a thin line, absorbed into the … More DAY FADING
The warm water of jazz found favor on my ears cleansing the inner me rolling cool into air bad with thirst forming breezes lifting hair and silk skirts blowing licks and healing suffering wounds with the gift of pure song like stars born falling to earth and into the hearts of horns and strings with … More FALLING TO EARTH
There is a song within him, a noise familiar, a wakeup into day, an appetite for good to happen. The floor challenges his feet. Gravity pulls at him, creating an in-between where he operates within common boundaries. Within the season of years, and unexplained, the joy of morning remains in yesterday, reviling and … More WATCHTOWER
Moonlight folded the letter of day into an evening verse. Clouds tumble out of the way, soon absorbed into a clear sky where crystal stars own the distance. Underfoot, there is a carpet of moisture on the grass, marked by footsteps leading there and away. Evergreens send out a crisp aroma. Dew glitters … More WATER DROPS
We are stones upon stones. Caves of memories. Mountains of thoughts, oceans of tears and deserts of dryness. Buildings find wonder with our foundations, curious with our moving about while not planted in the ground. We each possess a veneer, some of paper others of steel. Time tests the heart for strength; stepping … More STONES
He is a gathering man, like wind pulling at leaves, or dry ground praying for rain. He is the cents of a dollar, changing for no one. He spits in places shoes fail to go. Music knows him; his style is the air escaping from the stage. The aroma of a carnation boutonnière is the … More SOLID WIND
Luka the cat, one eye and charcoal fur digests the aroma of his yard. His kingdom of flowers breathes heaven onto him; firm stalks own the hair of his passing. Angry birds of all sizes send notice to his sure footed velvet undisturbed sauntering; his strength reserved for fighting. Nights welcome his … More LUKA
It was a day dedicated to high relief, with many paths, chosen and forced; like spiders fleeing heavy noises. Statues watched with granite eyes the song of traffic and voice passing beneath stone arms lined with pigeons, as the faces merge like many streams into one great river. Eyelashes wink at an edging … More THIS DAY
There is a breath between seasons. A gasp of release, the unwrapping of air stretching over, reaching out to the beyond. A passing absence fades into misty footsteps, where shadows meet, blending with voices in a breeze of change. Forcibly, like tides and the passage of rivers we accept the silence of what … More THE TIDES
He was a shirt with a covering resembling a man of awkwardness and self lacking, a foundering creature swimming upstream in rivers of passing faces darkened by clouds and shadows moving where uneasiness forces him to familiar corners where tight angled walls warm him finding favor with his quiet life without need for beyond where … More AN EMPTY SHIRT
Roger Singer 