The music had change and stretch, marching the sidewalks, turning heels and heads, twisting the jazz in into shadows with snap and burning where fingers speak a language of black tar streets and perfume rolls on the sweat of hands born into the arms of people stacked in apartments that … More A CITY MOVING
This ground is mine. I sweat it into growing. My eyes water the sound while my hands grasp the dirt, holding its generations of dust and stone with a blending of blood curing the colors making it good and right with sweet aroma passing through my hair rich with oils … More RIVER FULL
A blue grey smoky air rolls over faces while voices speak in a hush as the band breathes between songs. Exhausted heels and tired ties melt into chairs without music; uncomfortable, they wait with anxious fingers tapping and shoes looking for space. Slivered clear ice rattles like chains in glasses of promise, as a captured … More BETWEEN SONGS
The crowded club jived with dance. High stepping fast fire slapping, leather turning as day releases into night and the passion of jazz. Diamond rings, teethe that shine, silky hands, twisted pearls, combed flat black hair, satin eyes and suspenders that snap. Rhythm makes the hands give in as … More CIRCLING STORMS
The jazz rises creamy smooth, a tasteful air into a city laughing under a black moon where shadow life’s find the jive and voices crackle with scratchy rhythm and snappy fingers, jamming words, pulling and stepping knocking the plaster free where windows and doors open spreading the flames, feeding a fire from the Apple to … More OTHER SIDE
Lights of night blink like stars there up on the hill of Rivertown where music rolls fat down to waters edge soaking ears into smiling willing souls as they cool tired feet in the muddy dark silky quiet currents flowing with the power like the jazz rushing down to them from on high like morning … More RIVERTOWN
I love the scratchy voice of the jazz lady who brushes my ears clean. Words with thick washboard scuff scrape my soul to bleach white and preacher clean. Concrete rough words grasp my thoughts, causing the oceans in my head to tumble. Every song bends its tone like … More WITHIN HER VOICE
The crossroads of the beat fills the shoes of his travel under dark blankets of stars weeping at the making of jazz as the sweat of him drips over his eyes watering the seeds in his mouth forming words that river run his horn waking Gabriel as the sound walks the … More THE PLACE
Lazy humid Lake Pontchartrain breezes slip sideways through turquoise louvered doors past a cat, on a stool with its legs hanging like green tangled moss as the man, deep with pillow worship lays still, breathing soft, his hands open and flat holds court with dreams of last night the jazz … More PILLOW WORSHIP
Blue shirt guitar man sing me out, make my shoes tap with the drummer beating the skins to crying and sizzling the cymbals into stormy lightening. Clouded lights lift from humid whispers and smoke. Hear the bass man call out to angels in heavy clouds stirring the heavens, making rain soak their wings, forcing them … More JIVE AND JUMP
Roger Singer 