THAT BRASSY THING In him that thing voiced a noise, circling, surfacing, beating his insides until busting out with the jazz then rising, filling the air with his lightening, pushing brass into highs and making the lows cry tears of songs deep from wells where he sleeps, thinking strong with busy fingers, … More THAT BRASSY THING
The stars don’t have a chance and that moon up there fat with cheese smiling silver and winking cold holds not a candle to the man and his guitar pulling strings thick like Christmas bows each note popping up like the sun but that to can’t hold no heat when those picking … More SNAPPING THOSE STRINGS
A hard wind jumped eagerly from the stage, creeping into pockets and knocking on hats, forming a sweat then slapping the wall like heavy fast running water, a high tide of notes crests thick as a wave of jazz soaks ears of wide eyed souls. Dancing dresses swirl while … More A HIGH TIDE OF NOTES
Lay down thick the notes soft like cotton covering wide with sweet movable jazzy air rolling like engines full of steam boiling hot down long tracks soaking the land with notes catching people from behind and all over with the blend too strong to ignore like coffee breaking open the morning as clouds slide smooth … More ROLL ON THE JAZZ
He knows trouble. and the songs and loss. The nights past mornings where the jazz patiently waits for him like a faithful dog with good eyes waiting for a chance to release. He knows about black moons and shadows whispering and back doors of places he called home for … More FAITHFUL WITH TROUBLE
The notes rattled the chains in his head; souls marching, singing the pain of long days lost to labor for another man’s dream. Tears jaggedly cut his dusted cheeks, coursing rivers equal with oceans once crossed, added up and stacked onto the forever of years lost. Dust and sand kick up from under the shoes … More WITH SONG
The molasses of sound dripped slow flavoring him since youth when jazz got onto his ear like a propeller wash of beats making a whirr and buzz like coffee all night and golden arms with trumpets slivering the truth out of him surfacing with a suddenness like food slipping from the fingers of angels into … More YOU GOT ME RIGHT
Smooth sweet wood mellow messages warmly delivered like summer rain rich with flavor notes of chocolate candy for ears rolling sweetness through the head into the fingers and tapping toes like running winds pulsing and pleasing falling with purpose wrinkling a shirt or a dark hat then dripping coolly … More HE CAN PLAY
TO THIS PLACE His music shook a thundering from the sky where white and black clouds rained down in the same color splashing fast onto faces the clean washing sprit of jazz spreading arms of welcome over cities where the land lay broken, softening the eyes of some but not all as the music storm … More TO THIS PLACE
A black wall. His fears standing against him. No breath blows the barrier down. No shouts, push, pull Or hide the anger. But when he sings…. He sings the strength of trees falling, owning the space where they lie. His sound hammers the air, framing rooms on the stage of his mind. And when he … More WALLS BOW DOWN
Roger Singer 