The secret of being lost is the disregard for being found the luxury of blending to be part of unseen corners drifting away from everyone’s roads brushing past idle spirits and obstacles in the path the soul of travel are tents left behind places where a moment was meant for a … More BLENDING
Yesterday’s puddle reflects a crescent day moon. Leather jacketed teenagers hold court on Bowery Corner. “Which way is …?” asks the stranger. Three people point in different directions; the lost hold the discovery of where they need to be. Overhead subways kill the corners with sparks. Car horns take apart the air. Sun reflected windshields … More CITY WATCHING
It was a black moon night absent of shadows, full of dreams. Days bouquet of clouds melted into tasteful air. There was a release of sounds, living for a moment, then lost. The pulse of dark became strong. A light breeze engaged unwilling leaves. Stone walls held tightly the history of land. There was a … More ALWAYS THERE
There’s a shadow in the desert; secrets under the sand and a moon encouraging worship. Winds from a distance, unwanted and cold. Creature side tracks scatter to survive. Everything that breathes must be strong; life is the gold of survival. A forbidden land. Wide boundaries. No fences. Safety is unknown. Water escapes the lost. Crying … More DESERT MOON
Unrestricted. Stealing time. Unregistered waste. Failure to reject which way is the way to proceed. A fortune in words. Freedom is the release of the positives as they float past in a river of foolish hearts. It’s the in-between that belongs with the lost. Those who produce letters where the ink weeps from from … More HOW IT GROWS
Roger Singer 