The notes had feet running me down with slaps to my face speaking hard of the pain forged in rooms with smoke and ice as the beat jumped me like thieves intent on harm bruising with jive a blues fat with thick and jazz painted black. running songs fast with lust and catch them all … More BRUISING WITH JIVE
He came from no place good; unpaved roads lick his dusty feet. Magnolias fold at his passing, mourning his loss and without. There are no warnings within him. No trappings snare his feet. His words are swollen streams, turning violent winds into jazz, soaking faces with song. He’s been … More BREATHING GRAY
The crowd, a mass of willing flesh, absorb the fire of his sound. Their greed is unsatisfied, unquenched, burning with the blood of dance; it warms cool air. The man with great voice tastes his words, releasing thoughts from corners and shadows, spreading the jazz, bandaging the hurt in the … More FALLEN STARS
The piano player snapped into notes of busy, lousy with heavy jive so thick with curtained waves of song folks found to the comfort bended knees like Sunday preaching at the altar lifting hands begging more of the same to wash over flow over send them heaven home where music … More LIFTING OF HANDS
I know where I received the “gots”, The Big Easy baptized me with night, blessing me with jazz, filling my cup in City Park where benches hold court and whispered spirits and suitcases full of dreams speak the Creole with gumbo warming the soul as I wander to through Jackson Square and past magnolias where … More THE GOTS
His gift thrives from his pain as he trumps the air with his horn. Golden flashes strike the wall as his hands lift the notes weighted with years. His music draws in with pull while the sounds push then tease twisting around faces like lovers’ fingers begging for mercy. He … More PUSH AND PULL
The back porch creaks of age as feet press a voice from its surface. A song from a guitar keeps time with the sway of lazy moss. Crickets hungry for noise, satisfy the appetite of their energy. Dusty shoes got the soul of tapping, slapping the ground with the beat … More A NIGHT SONG
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 circle of music. A muse of language. Ups in high and low with downs. The circle complete. Rounding into jazz. Straight roads with curves, paintings without colors, water fountains wet with voices dividing the air. Magnolia sounds catch the June bug, lightening the circle in my chest, setting afire lights, allowing me to see … More CURIOUS LINE
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
Roger Singer 