From the heart a factory of tears where walls rebound or block. The eyes watch the hands fall away; they see better in darkness. Each breath folds into corners as voices pull at the blood to speak edging out truth and lies. Ears hold the place of faraway; the last words become the knife separating … More THE START OF ALWAYS
It’s a twisting of hands, a thirst to indulge the spirit of the getaway, the radical, unradical of wish and desire; air through a chrome grill chews hungrily the dark of night on tendrils of unlighted roads. The tires roll out a language of hate and speed; the normal is scrapped for expression. Roads … More LOST ROADS
The piano room was a glass slipper waiting for perfect hands to free the sound. Sunlight through the curtains spread a yellow pollen-like glaze over the furniture. Books lining shelves resurrected the curious. The room possessed an unexplained magnetism. A place for the temporary soul to embark on an expedition of heart. A grand oriental … More WAITING
There was side stepping, avoiding a disaster. People pointed. Like thunder they moaned a noise like trees falling. There was no far away when gathering started out flat and solid. Hands with a cause formed an ocean like seaweed waving. Hearts of motion breathed energy. Eyes alighted like hungry animals. Their language one or two … More MARCHING
Her hand dipped lazily into the fountain. Cloud shadows drifted over the square, shading tourists and children. Summer was yielding to fall. Orange and yellow drinks, wide brimmed hats and tables with lovers settled into a mild afternoon. The woman at the fountain looked up, shielding her eyes like Cleopatra observing a desert of … More CAPTURED IMAGE
Roger Singer 