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
Wisdom reached down heavy ignoring the dark brooding on earth’s face. Mighty power touched heavenly long black dancing fingers with a dream. A fat willing wooden bass fell in love with the hands of his youth. His jazzed sounds leaned strong pushing sweet his voice through strings.
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
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
On the bank of a wide river where pause collides with slow a man and a guitar finds rest under dripping moss. His broad fingers find refuge with the strings like captured moths circling feverishly around a single hanging bulb. A calico cat appearing dead brushes its tail without order to the … More A WIDE RIVER
His gift thrives from his pain as he trumps the air with his horn. Golden flashes strike the wall as his hands lift the notes weighted with years. His music draws in with pull while the sounds push then tease twisting around faces like lovers’ fingers begging for mercy. He … More PUSH AND PULL
The music sweet and long fell trapped in the moment swirling fat and brown like rivers powerful with push greeting with respect the notes released telling a story of the ups of down and the down of being up too long as the sound rolled around speaking soft finding its own way into the wide … More FINDING ITS OWN
The circle of music. A muse of language. Ups in high and low with downs. The circle complete. Rounding into jazz. Straight roads with curves, paintings without colors, water fountains wet with voices dividing the air. Magnolia sounds catch the June bug, lightening the circle in my chest, setting afire lights, allowing me to see … More CURIOUS LINE
The pleasure’s got his pain, as tides rise and colors slip the doors speaking his jazz into high corners where names of him reach the dogs of night, feeding their growl, fueling the thoughts of love lost in the leaving of shoes and the rooms of broken visions left behind and the darkness of smiles … More FAT WITH JAZZ
A black Oldsmobile. Chrome tips. Dinosaur eyes. Red leather seats; the chariot ride for kings. The jazz men merge through the doors. Cigarettes pulse the black air. The radio bebop’s and fingers tap; white walls kiss the road. Long nights and roads. Strange doors. Diners flash neon. Meatloaf warms the soul; the jukebox slips a … More BLACK AIR
Roger Singer 