There’s an element of searching a strong unwritten text reminders of miracles wasted in an alley or a hallway without lights where vapors dribble out confessions like the street artist with a crooked crescent smile chalking his drawings providing them with a soul and eyes that follow and a woman silent … More SIDEWALK AFTERNOON
The strangeness of late hours and busy feet walking between buildings where memories sift through passions and promises it must be the under surface of heaven where shadows and dreams whisper wisdom and pillows hide dreams and finally we realize that flowers become more beautiful as we age into something new
The structure of the proof is the land observant eyes and obedient ears stand fast within the silence the strength of rocks the support of roots a crowded rain newness is grafted in at sunset morning glories dip their heads the moon is a celestial flower what’s important is … More BETWEEN STONEWALLS
Graveside flowers bless the unholy standing by looking down curious about the passage through the path yet taken by the living the name now on stone to live longer than the soul beneath the trees nearby watching over changing seasons absent of sympathy for this and others and memories of names on cards and voices … More LAST TIME
In the corners of the desert whispers drain out as sweat becomes the turpentine from unnecessary movement desert flowers draw on moisture in the air bones lost in storms become the crossroads of the hunted each direction is an unknown destination while the lost and stubborn follow the moon tears stain … More STEP THIS WAY
There’s a crossroad junction in west Texas a place far away from most of what we know a place with partially paved country roads stretching true to the compass and a few wild flowers growing like crooked fingers at the base of four stop signs every direction has a city at its end with … More FROM HERE
It was a canvas with voice. Tight and constrained. Earth supported with a dampening sky. Gold leafs brightened from a silver candelabra. Birds cold gray and three flowers in need of water. Shadows from a forest with blue trees. In the center a precocious muse. An expression to beguile those with whispering gazes and questions. … More MUSE
I settled down, though briefly and had a think, like when water becomes ambient, not warm or cold; placid while reshaping an outcome. It was a must, a brush with orderliness, creating the back end before leading the pen to water. It became a flower moment, an opening as if sun touched, bringing … More CREATION
There’s an island I feel in my dreams. A safe current with abundant sun, providing energy without resistance. An open front door offers promise. A bouquet of flowers sits on a hallway table; circling white fans refresh incoming ocean breezes. White sands encourage me and waves orchestrate a welcome. I walk into the water as … More THIS PLACE
There’s an island I feel in my dreams. A safe current with abundant sun, providing energy without resistance. An open front door offers promise. A bouquet of flowers sits on a hallway table; circling white fans refresh incoming ocean breezes. White sands encourage me and waves orchestrate a welcome. I walk into the water as … More THIS PLACE
Roger Singer 