I saw a winking moon hide behind kingly pines where silence finds comfort in darkened leaning shadows and silver liquid beams slipped through thick boughs as the round full faced hanging around moon delivered light to paths on my way home.
Alone is the railroad car continually passing by, rattling the night into darkness with insincere eyes.. The sound of breathing roars across the bed. The drip of a faucet clocks out the minutes with agony. Outside city lights blink a neon code; red-blue points with false hope. Fleeting dreams raise a curtain revealing faces without … More THE OTHER SIDE
Car lights break onto the road, clearing a path to the next place. Road signs rise and fade. The radio pulses the air, tossing sounds onto passing driveways and street corners; street lights blanch a small circle of temporary safety. Strangers are willows, bending to the course of their travel. They smile without reason, … More HERE TO THERE
A back porch guitar man sends a song into an alley. Sweat stains his hat and baptizes his shirt. He sings of cards, gin, smoke and lies. Sure fingers free the fear he protects. Pigeons rustle nervously above. Strangers shuffle by, chasing last night’s dreams. A cat circles a trach can. He pushes … More HIS PLACE
The above landscape is a canvas of infinity. A place beyond reaching fingers or the roof of buildings. Curious eyes form a lifetime of dreams through telescopes. Changing seasons expose new borders and positions of the stars. They are constant. Forever appearing. Offering stability to faithful observers. A wealth of beauty can be passed on … More UP THERE
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
Industry. Merrimack River. Red brick factories. Wallpaper sweat. Stained hats. Greasy fingers. Oiled boots. Gloves soaked in time. Mixed aromas. Twelve hour shifts. Five minute breaks. Bag lunches. Overalls with snaps. Tattoos with faces. Eyes glasses smeared. Black acne spots. Machines crunching. Narrow walkways. Wooden floors. Noise upon noise. Laboring fans. Glass transoms. Metal chips. … More Lowell, Massachusetts, 1937
Beyond the next minute, prodigal thoughts recreate avenues of traveling words. All second hand messages are burned; ashes of vulnerability swept over the edges. Angry hands anxiously record the moment; nervous legs anticipate. The aroma of the story are spice trees for the reader. Words stand trial. Judgement opens quietly. The energy of success swells. … More A COVERED RELEASE
We are names and places, forged within the stages of history. Sadness and blessings merge spirit and soul to begin again, to fight on or forgive. George Bennard, felt the roughened timbers of the, “Old Rugged Cross.” Carl Boberg, lifted the hands of millions with, “How Great Thou Art.” Sabine Gould, marched … More NAMES OF GOLD
I have a legend with the road. A connection with dust from parking lots and narrow alleys. I know something about flat tires and vacant store fronts where change and loss hold onto empty. Faraway places never consider these places. A suffering evening sky labors at placing stars into night. Mountain shadows, appearing like sleeping … More ANOTHER PLACE
Roger Singer 