Roads are scars between mountains; oaths for angels without wings. Strangers welcome the curves with shadows and the gray of dusks coverings. Gas stations close at six. Stay in the car with the windows rolled up. Hitchhikers have no place to go. There’s a riddle between each town hidden under a rock. Headlights … More RACING TRAINS
It was a cloudy vision, a river of hands flowing thick, reaching franticly for treasures but coming up empty as they tumbled like stones, never resting, bumping into and falling over as the force moves into crowded silence past towns and under weary bridges where a cloudburst of muddied hands swim in an apocalypse of … More MY DREAM
Early morning offers the comfort of silence as you awake to your human architecture, stretching out sleeps stiffness while your system processes the inward blueprint, preparing for your first step. It’s a good day when all the parts work. You yawn out tired air with a moan; a familiar voice inflection known only to … More A GOOD DAY
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
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
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
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
He’s got chrome for teeth. Hair slicked back like midnight rain. Eyebrows thin as razors, like the blade in his pocket and sin at the side; a gold chain with a cross signals belief without a past. His eyes speak protection. An army of force settles in his fists. From the corner he searches … More HIS CORNER
The flavor of a laugh frees a generation of song without words. Hear the strength of youth, like stone walls pulled from the groins of the earth and then formed into social lines, Sturdy until the age of seasons. Hold the chrysalis for as long as it can be. Like flames wind teased, the … More CHANGING SHAPES
She was dancing. Moving tidal hands out and back. Her neck swayed like a windy willow branch; sideways, over and around, she conquered all the air. Barefoot on October sidewalks. A royal scarf Isadora Duncan would have loved. Paisley red orange blue skirt. A bandana with beads tipped releasing Christmas noise. She smiled at everyone, … More HER SPACE
Roger Singer 