IN ME …..I got a land in me, rocks melted into blood and skin from snakes. Dust and sand forms the man and tears wash it away into rivers deep with shadows, the places of past front porches and lights too dim for a full face where screen doors welcome the great and small into … More IN ME
Highway papers scatter the road. Yesterday’s news pressed against the inside of a factory fence. The sky is rose red. The air is moist. There are no songs but the wind gusts a tune. The clouds resemble casual caring hands, resting like sleep while building silently into towers over a landscape full and willing. A … More REPLENISH
The crossing of shadows marks street windows with blurred reflections absent of color. Quick steps and shoulders slip the stream. The sidewalk is a meadow of shoes, turning, twisting, scuffed and shined, all with purpose and impatience. The people are a mix of ragged granules; the sands of a city shoreline on the move. Eye … More RAGGED GRANULES
We become reduced by the strength of day; it starts like honey but can turn to tar. We seek shade under the cool of willows, harmless on a rivers edge, there branches whisper as breezes slip through. Songs of riches bring us to the mountain of hope. Wealth fails to provide the joy as seasons … More BURN OFF
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
Wide streets cluttered with life. Threads of voices. Open market. Awnings with stripes. Aprons with pockets. Busy hands, strong and soft. Silk skirts. Cut flowers, carnation strong. Youth with a vision. The world moving on sidewalks. Colorful hydrants. White walled tires. Black Cadillac’s. Patent leather shoes. Gold chains. Grandmothers watching. Package store drinkers. Trucks and … More HARLEM
The sight of day vanishes as if cut. Underground tremors release into tunnels creating monster echoes. The train becomes absorbed in an ocean of dark air. Doors fling open. Warm gaseous fumes slap morning faces. The platform fills with legs and shoes and eyes looking down; children are still home in bed. The atrium fills … More ARRIVING
The leaves of his life float on streams created by a curious desire to be someplace else. Dust turns up behind footsteps soothing the travel born to him. Heavy doors swing shut on the pain of uncorrected loves and insincere handshakes. Clouds are his canopy of protection, a mist of heaven, covering what he has … More MISTS OF HEAVEN
The pull of gravity provides a slow blink of reality and caution. Unfamiliar dreams of eyes with stars, kings of stone, and watch towers under gray slate skies create the beginning of desperate ambitions. Repentant knees drop with emotion, praying for pockets of hope and second chances.
A homeless empty wind slipped the corner of late August, searching for the last remnant of summer, that final breath of warm air. Cool nights marked the end and the beginning of another season. Daylight slowly drained away familiar voices and sounds. The chance of the future depends on the passing of seasons. … More PASSING SEASONS
Roger Singer 