A twist of air boldly pushes past August light; a song of different color; the end of summer. Night air signals the aroma of change. Cooler breezes mark time like a parade turning a corner. No wall of wishes prevents the rolling pattern weaving around me; I am a … More THE NOTHING ZONE
Somewhere between the sleep of death and breath of life I linger within when my eyes like yours close for day and open for night in blackness deep where sounds are crushed into voices and faces twist into paintings of who I know or who I’ve seen when … More DRINKING SLEEP
The factory. River water pushes in electric out. Stoic faces, busy hands, leaning forward, tools clanking, assembly lines organizing, textiles, metals, lathes and labor, pallets and wire. Row houses, red brick, open windows, curtains lipping the corners, pipes with steam, chimneys black belching, parking lots and fences, green service doors, fans spinning, workers in overalls, … More MILL TOWN
Heavy, with the frame of a big man through a crowd, the storms front rolled in, like horses running wild. Winds viciously slapped trees, lifting objects to weak with weight into the turbulence of electric clotheslines dancing and windows rattling like angry snakes or unburied bones. Doors yielded to great … More RUSTY HINGES
GRAY AND FLAT A following of suitcases, faces moving under gray metal skies. Faith long ago leaped away, claiming a lost kingdom from a ragged past. Abandoned without gain they all walk city streets, moving in mass around corners past lights and buildings. They follow without leading. Regularly looking back.
I AM NEAR Nestled behind a row of kingly pines a winking moon steps between branches where silence finds comfort in darkened angles and leaning shadows. Jagged lunar light crosses over paths. The wind is silent, adding to night’s strength. I am alighted in the direction of home. My boots … More I AM NEAR
A night song drifted past weeping mid-summer magnolias as it marks a pathways thru cool pockets of air to an opening where voices shadow whisper weaving end day stories to capture hearts. Midnight calls without alarm. Time has no respect. A crescent moon finds space between passing clouds. The field receives a carpet of silver. … More AN OPEN FIELD
THE LONG AND SHORT A naked night, void of stars, opens a canvas of black where a moon, in the corner of space lays captured. It is a black and white night, a photo with shades and shadows with cool skin and eyes like diamonds. The shape of a … More THE LONG AND SHORT
We awake within a thin state of dreaming, half there and the other part opening up with a stretch. The song of city streets releases motion. An early overcast creates pale chalky grey shadows onto faces hurrying and stained sidewalks. A harmonica in apartment 2-B ripens by the minute. The sound works to blend a … More ANOTHER MORNING
He lifts the boxes without effort, small or large as if the same. His features are commonly obscure, a fighters face with a broad nose, three scars on the forehead and an ear blossoming. His skin is traveled. Working hands explode from the ends of his sleeves. He wears a baseball hat and duct tape … More THE WORKER
Roger Singer 