under dunes ancient paths pressed by sand rocks and skeletons lying beside, evidence covered and then recovered, time preserved, desperate voices absorbed, disorder with perfection, void of seasons absent of sounds protected within ancient layers
the lost know how to be found they are the dust of failures and the chance for success they court the sun worship the moon and question the shadow following behind they hum an unfamiliar song remembering parts and the parts offered up for another try at something, anything
on the crowded sidewalk he felt his hands were lost day was slipping silently into a breezy evening the aroma of salt air filled the pocket of his senses city lights robbed the glory of stars making faint a crescent moon he mumbled a prayer like church candles soul dripping … More SALT AIR
words I know falling on me from clouds and infinity skies like blizzards of fire or moonlit letters of shadowed memories flowing down reminding, slipping within morning and evening buried in the breath under every sun and moon recalling the moments never to return
night, a silent voice eyes fold satin smooth chances and memories walk across thoughts to the other side destiny and legacy hold the cards as impatience opens another door into a large room of what was lost with a small box of what was found
darkness covers the linen of skin, folding over with day lost, the sky closes out the feel of sun warm breezes surrender to shadows replacing colors with a flat gray like layers of curtains, the first call of night leaning into stillness
it was a gray tunnel there was a man wearing an overcoat and hat his back toward me walking quickly away, weaving to the sides, heavy steps raising dust from a crimson road he was joined by a white bird, its wings covering the man his image lost as the creature … More FLEETING IMAGE
I sense a stranger a cloud without a name half light the other gray no voice to introduce the spirit without a smile, coat, or hat as it enters my thoughts like a midnight diner person, sure footed, a table in sight, back to the corner watching for misplaced stragglers, loners and those wanting … More MINDFUL VISITOR
we awake under rumpled sheets of thoughts the prison of two ideas lines dissolve between dreams and the mystery of fragmented images remembering corner shadows and glimpses of the lost and parts of what is never found as we rise from bed becoming the servant to the master of day
scattered at the crossroads a pair of shoes left without a note plastic flamingos broken bottles cigarettes and a purse cactus cast shadows over sand and rock the sun moves past the other side of barren hills cool breezes give flight to paper plates and red napkins while night blinds the … More THE LAST PICNIC
Roger Singer 