It was an occasion for suspicion a strange arrangement searching for a solemn confession among a pastel of voices like the comma between two good thoughts of invading serpents and invading dreams where the best of plans are assembled for a traveler born wounded to find a way under a keyboard of passing clouds
a stretch of clouds created for a brief moment a perfect opening a separation of white and gray a gift of silence revealing a distant blue ceiling mostly unnoticed until… the clouds quietly reformed into a white flat unbroken carpet
never alone without voice words chase me down while traveling through nameless towns like cats and thieves soft walking through openings in fences where whispers speak and lies wish for the truth never stopping outrunning hunger yet praying for one more heartbeat to see the moon while evening drinks the day dry … More IN THE QUIET
wet pavement rain washes city dust polishing the rust with heavens night showers shining sidewalks beneath an all night diners neon’s ruffled muted images drip past the front door into refuge where sinners have no regrets as they speak of never enough time while exchanging ideas of washed over without washed out … More NIGHT GATHERING
unkempt hours lacking value steal the breath out of day anxious wishing tries to move time, though fails against the push within the clutter of desks and chairs heads lean like gravestones while the eyes of one look like the eyes of another
his hair spoke the language of wind whipping over his ears falling onto a furrowed forehead an ocean of air rushes and gathers against gravity pushing its weight against the presence of his salt and light bone and blood
wish me well I’m in a pattern of landing hard in this balloon filled with lead while feeling dark all over in the middle of the day when I know the eyes of a mannequin has a soul and a plastic heart truer than some that I know
rain I got crying wet onto me diamond drops brightened by street lights making the worst appear washed and clean while puddles reflect neon’s as passing footsteps make busy waves disturbing what weeps and gathers from the under surface of heaven to the streets where I walk
eyes with work a wall clock without mercy typewriter language paper thick with ink corner offices glass doors with names water tank and paper cups fluorescent lights no one notices the hum high heels hair spray jackets and ties felt hats everyone smokes see you tomorrow
we are water within a great river singular not yet seen we move in flocks and herds down roads climbing stairs to doors unfamiliar within a few there is a calling a message scrawled on the heart of a gift yet used we are a great rush of sound over … More RUNNING THE RACE
Roger Singer 