Talk to me oh bass with wells deep and voices strong as if the earth were grinding under the souls of us snapping fingers like the pop of July 4th as stars explode high in wide skies untouched by voices but regularly with the rub of strings the bass man slides alive
The jazz and the junk crawled like ants with cymbals on their feet jungle marching inside his head yelling to his snazzy fingers to blow notes with pounding and circling like witchy winds scratching hard at the air tearing a hole and blasting the music smacking flat into faces smiling broad … More FROM THAT HORN
The rumble Of jazz Rattles the air Like crazy cats Scratching Garbage can tops As the band Lifts from down Pulling the shades Bold and tight While raising The sound High and loud Beating out Fast and catchy Winds Whipping up A storm Of sweaty souls Dropping the rain Of dance Onto … More GARBAGE CAN TOPS
Evenings doors begin their closings. A cellophane sun recedes to a round horizon Where a faint filtering of clouds becomes invisible as night raises the flag of darkness. The burden of evening, being alone or without, Welcomes the spirit of fear or doubt Or suspicion of sounds. But with God, the author of life and … More A HANDFULL OF PSALMS
A day fills the pages for night dreams. Songs settle into wide branches while lovers speak in whisper language. Night is blind to evil. The land is filled with stiff gray images. A jagged twisting wind circles over smooth faces. Silence holds the greatest of weight under an early sliver of moon. Dreams open the … More FOREVER GONE
I am downwind from the crossroads, adrift on the offside a thought. I hear the language of midnight calling where there is no second choice. A vine of clouds snake twist over a blue gray sky. Rain is far off, though moving closer within the halves of minutes. Here at a back stairway any door … More THE NEXT CORNER
The crowded club jived with dance. High stepping fast fire slapping, leather turning as day releases into night and the passion of jazz. Diamond rings, teethe that shine, silky hands, twisted pearls, combed flat black hair, satin eyes and suspenders that snap. Rhythm makes the hands give in as … More CIRCLING STORMS
Songs overflow from doors opening to the sidewalk where.neon lights baptize the weak, stirring the curiosity of a night strung tight while others pray in alleys whispering their sins under a celestial curtain as stars cross behind the black of space where not a molecule is out of place as … More FINDING NIGHT
The press of air lays flat onto me, drying my sweat on a life of skin, the surface flavor of salt, the product of my drifting released to run onto my face and arms, its paths random like the day of wandering under city shades and shadows from trees and buildings where streets warm with … More NIGHT BLANKETS
Blue shirt guitar man sing me out, make my shoes tap with the drummer beating the skins to crying and sizzling the cymbals into stormy lightening. Clouded lights lift from humid whispers and smoke. Hear the bass man call out to angels in heavy clouds stirring the heavens, making rain soak their wings, forcing them … More JIVE AND JUMP
Roger Singer 