I know a road of dust and wind, open at both ends, encouraging dreamers and people with maps who set out to far places, never sure when they’ve arrived. I look both ways at the distance equal to the left and right where footsteps mark a passing along with a horse and dog. … More UP AHEAD
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
A frontier of waves with form breasted my ankles with coolness borne from dark fathoms. Water and foam spread like dust on the shoreline where it flows blue and green over sand broken from ancient mountains. The aroma of tumbling water runs strong over me; a ripe fruit unchallenged. Threads of a blue heaven hold the … More CLEAN
The life in words is the poem yet created. An unrefined treasure, a stone of beauty desperate for cutting, a tree to be pruned. It’s a labor of decision until the pen strikes open the curtain of memory and a visionary dream bursts to the surface under curious hands. Songs of souls live on the … More RELEASING WORDS
The passion of the violin stretches into a rising sound when applied with an exactness and faith, encouraging the verses among the notes, a clever idea of grace filled twice. The air salutes with respect the song, wishing it could play through the branches with such ease; even thunder boasts over tympani. The cherry orchard … More VIOLIN STRENGTH
Broad lines of clouds lay discarded like fallen ladders under a sky reaching into forever. A flock of birds, specks in motion, possess the width of an open horizon; their sounds become absorbed in distance. A few remaining brown curled leaves hold fast to gray branches; they rattle … More A FEW LEAVES
Swirling breezes push hard with jumpy hurricane winds slapping fast like mosquitoes flying round sticky music buzzing wild in your head that can’t be trapped like a scratchity scratch you just can’t reach with itchy fat fingers so instead you start to hum and make a way for the song to … More SCRATCHITY SCRATCH
The sound of a guitar holds cool night air hostage as the notes drift over the sidewalk below like soft linen draping the skin, holding tight while retaining the heat. An easy changing of chords reminds me of ocean blue days and warm sand or the aroma of approaching storms. The music breaks the bonds … More SERENADE
The sound of newness lingered. The stem of an autumn leaf resisted its position of a summer passed. Voices within the winds slipped over branches like silver moonlight defying the eye of morning. August roots fail against the appetite of September and the cloak of October. Cool winds move in, forcing doors to close. The … More CHANGE
I know where I received the “gots”, The Big Easy baptized me with night, blessing me with jazz, filling my cup in City Park where benches hold court and whispered spirits and suitcases full of dreams speak the Creole with gumbo warming the soul as I wander to through Jackson Square and past magnolias where … More THE GOTS
Roger Singer 