a single line of open space, a passage between aging brick walls shadowed with moments of sun, where lies and promises pause randomly, standing unsteady in conversation with no one or privately with equals, whispering like thieves, discussing secrets until choosing separate paths to unknowns
subtracting the parts of day, the unfinished, early shadows, voices within, unanswered dreams, questions and morning coffee it’s a swim against the elephant no one talks about, hearts holding grief and half promises while speaking to the waiting arms of a soul who knows darkness comes first, and then the safety of night … More LATER THERE IS NIGHT
never alone without voice words chase me down while traveling through nameless towns like cats and thieves soft walking through openings in fences where whispers speak and lies wish for the truth never stopping outrunning hunger yet praying for one more heartbeat to see the moon while evening drinks the day dry … More IN THE QUIET
there’s a desert on the edge of the last thought or spoken word a mystery wide and full like a blue Egyptian sky or the walls of Babylon a whisper of an answer a tear caught within a lie a song without words safe and attached
Dreams are fragrances, reminding us to remember the vision, the voice departed, the place of youth no longer visited; the person we were, but have changed. Regrets are long. Promises become minced oaths and lies hurt us the most. Attempts to make the right from the wrongs are absorbed each day; rumbling of … More CIRCLES
A subtle word resembles a glance of thought, slipping past like sweet breath of liqueur. Resting back, a Roman blue sky fills the bowl above, averting the eyes from gravity, admiring the wide color. If rumors develop, they are deposited in a glass jar of gossip where they ferment, unless deadly spoken sins … More FINDING RIGHT
It appears as a savage darkness. A shadow heavily curtained, too lengthy to draw back. It’s a relevant spirit, a stranger, though not on the street, but within us, sewn into the web of our inner skin. Voices with many faces. Moods light and soft before changing into bottomless misgivings and lies. We feel it. … More INSIDE
There was a final call for last drinks at the Black Cactus Cantina, a place comfortable in the shadows. It was another night of switchblades, leather boots and lies with smiles. Warm desert winds and roaming lizards stir night sands. Women with showy names and men without truth move through the door to outside. … More LAST CALL
Dawn drops the hammer on the last intersection of day. A star curtain drapes itself over a thin blue canopy. Tasteful air rushes in to become the last act. Stories told grow tall with unnatural lies, encouraging events that didn’t happen until reality calls us out from the bench, waiting to see if we melt … More REALITY STRIKES
Roger Singer 