The music sweet and long fell trapped in the moment swirling fat and brown like rivers powerful with push greeting with respect the notes released telling a story of the ups of down and the down of being up too long as the sound rolled around speaking soft finding its own way into the wide … More FINDING ITS OWN
The pleasure’s got his pain, as tides rise and colors slip the doors speaking his jazz into high corners where names of him reach the dogs of night, feeding their growl, fueling the thoughts of love lost in the leaving of shoes and the rooms of broken visions left behind and the darkness of smiles … More FAT WITH JAZZ
The color in me knows the blues, it feels the hands deep pulling to the surface the song of me. Can’t wash away or drain out the fullness crowding my insides where its standing room only in hallways and from chairs full of listeners waiting for the pouring over of what I got. A song … More THE BANK OF BLUES
An open sound of notes thawed with heat what was cold and deep with loss with waves of warmth from fans in heaven rolling to the ground turning over knocking around a sound birthed as jazz and rich with blood pumping and breathing finding a breath speaking with voice like bread … More NOTE BY NOTE
He left the room bruised from his music; like a fighters corner without a stool. Strange eyes followed the linen of his walk; the breeze he caused and its wake smoothed into whispered corners. His steps owned the path to everyplace. No door offered resistance to the warmth of his cool. He … More BRASSED OUT
A guitar fills a soft space between soul and need releasing petals of sound merging into the blood of day. Wounds are healed within the weave of notes closing out loss strengthening bones and heart with growth. The sounds continue, watering unfolding blossoms as darkness retreats. The guitar soothes the moment, opening a chance beyond … More UNFOLDING
The rock of his fingers scratches out, pounds out the language of jazz, spreading over fast hearts and soft skin. A wretched smile, crooked with time, boiled in emotion soup, spreads him out as he releases the scars of high and low, winds of cold and years remembered with trouble. His fingers swim … More BOILED UP
The jazz of his well overflows. The wetness of long images drip fluid hot from fingers playing the burn. A sweet pleasantness follows him. Years of heads turning form great waves behind him; the applause reaches distant galaxies. He is a cat. A prowler of music forests, yet tamed. Open souls are consumed without resistance. … More SINGLE FILE
Breathing into a magnolia sweet evening a cello weeps from an apartment; late persistent summer clouds flatten under an orange-blue horizon. The air divides as the sound walks over tired curtains and past yellow chipped paint, descending to an alley absent of life, canvassing garbage cans and locked back doors. A hallway fills with music … More CALM WATERS
Her lipstick is the blood red of a days end. Draining slender fingers claw for heaven, stirring muddy the floor under the pearly gates. The jazz she breathed rattled high around the edges of her cup of years; the roulette wheel fails to let her secure a winning. The wrong of her makes the pain … More HER SONG TOUCH
Roger Singer 