There are a number in hiding, an invisible color, like hedgerows, self-protecting, settling into quiet corners, pulling at their shadow, building on the strength of alone. They are the crowds of the unnoticed, claiming an unwanted seat where they feel secure. They are end tables of thought, conspiring with overthinking, finding comfort as the part … More QUIETLY ALONE
MOVING BEYOND His hands were soft, unused. Heavy labor failed with him. His eyes were volumes of quiet words. There was a presence of confidence, though slight like random breezes. His shirt was weather thinned. Shoes labored with dirt from long roads. His hat was faded by the suns attack. He half smiled, agreeing not … More MOVING BEYOND
There is a sleep murmur, a language of slumber, half words absent of full thoughts, verbal creations satisfying the ears while agreeing with suggestions; nodding of the head and smiling before slipping back to sleep. Dreams offer partial direction, indicating the chance to be or the place be all appears right, and above question. Night … More THE OTHER SIDE
There was an opening in the day, a slice of casual interruption, a box of memories waiting to be unwrapped. Thin tensions of thought become light and airy, like dry desert winds finding no resistance rushing over the surface. Within canyons of air, rare releases of the soul surface offering insights to the … More RARE RELEASES
Somewhere between the sleep of death and breath of life I linger within when my eyes like yours close for day and open for night in blackness deep where sounds are crushed into voices and faces twist into paintings of who I know or who I’ve seen when … More DRINKING SLEEP
The factory. River water pushes in electric out. Stoic faces, busy hands, leaning forward, tools clanking, assembly lines organizing, textiles, metals, lathes and labor, pallets and wire. Row houses, red brick, open windows, curtains lipping the corners, pipes with steam, chimneys black belching, parking lots and fences, green service doors, fans spinning, workers in overalls, … More MILL TOWN
THE LONG AND SHORT A naked night, void of stars, opens a canvas of black where a moon, in the corner of space lays captured. It is a black and white night, a photo with shades and shadows with cool skin and eyes like diamonds. The shape of a … More THE LONG AND SHORT
We awake within a thin state of dreaming, half there and the other part opening up with a stretch. The song of city streets releases motion. An early overcast creates pale chalky grey shadows onto faces hurrying and stained sidewalks. A harmonica in apartment 2-B ripens by the minute. The sound works to blend a … More ANOTHER MORNING
He lifts the boxes without effort, small or large as if the same. His features are commonly obscure, a fighters face with a broad nose, three scars on the forehead and an ear blossoming. His skin is traveled. Working hands explode from the ends of his sleeves. He wears a baseball hat and duct tape … More THE WORKER
Flames lick the straw and the suitcases we pack over a lifetime with vulnerable items we adore. We wonder without speaking, what lasts, what remains the day without perishing? Building is more than walls, it’s a foundation buried deep; stones for support, the strength that lasts. Fire burns, water … More BEAUTY FOR ASHES
Roger Singer 