His arms were roots, thirsty for water; its color and taste indifferent to his lust. His hair boasted unruliness, dry and odd shaped, like unkempt fields leaning from wild winds. He disconnected himself, inventing sounds from tears while his skin was sore from long work and seeing empty plates and passing rocks that … More AT THE TOP
The leaves of his life float on streams created by a curious desire to be someplace else. Dust turns up behind footsteps soothing the travel born to him. Heavy doors swing shut on the pain of uncorrected loves and insincere handshakes. Clouds are his canopy of protection, a mist of heaven, covering what he has … More MISTS OF HEAVEN
The pull of gravity provides a slow blink of reality and caution. Unfamiliar dreams of eyes with stars, kings of stone, and watch towers under gray slate skies create the beginning of desperate ambitions. Repentant knees drop with emotion, praying for pockets of hope and second chances.
A homeless empty wind slipped the corner of late August, searching for the last remnant of summer, that final breath of warm air. Cool nights marked the end and the beginning of another season. Daylight slowly drained away familiar voices and sounds. The chance of the future depends on the passing of seasons. … More PASSING SEASONS
The oil of dark turned quiet. The gears of dusk pulled kneeling clouds to lay their praying hands over valleys where evening oddly fits like a puzzle. The sun yields to a purple sky. Flags of death witness horizons loss of youth. A cool brush of wind closes in around. Fields accept curtains … More NIGHT ENTERS
He survives the years and faces departed in early breezes; there are few now who remember him as a child. Tears stain everyone. His skin is smoothed. Fingers once busy warm in the sun. His eyes once of youth and feet born of Mercury, rest willingly. He sleeps in parts. Lightly at first and then … More MORNING COFFEE
I kneeled to the ground, my hand pressed dirt onto its clean soft surface as pieces slipped between and dripped back to the common bond, the relation of stones and boulders and glaciers shearing at the land, leaving mountains unhooked, forming unstoppable streams into pulsing rivers, curving, carving, driving under then rising to the surface with … More BELOW ME
Cannonades of sound spilled out announcing the coming and going of time the salt of thoughts watered with oceans persistent waves like gladiators of foaming armies spreading wide the release of tossing sand and rocks seeking a new level unasked for until lifted by or rolled out to calmer decorated ergs waiting to be tugged … More BACK AND FORTH
Day yielded unwillingly to a shower of gray sky where stars faintly blink for attention. We sat on a rock by the sea, its warmth reminded us of a cloudless August day. Receding emerald green waves wash over sand and shells releasing whispering sandpaper voices into the salt air we breathe. Our words … More ALWAYS MINE
The brashness of a gray afternoon curses at roadside bars, all night diners and clotheslines resembling sagging roadmaps. Mud flaps proselytize to the lost while angels search for the abandoned; neon lights tempt the lonely from corners. In the distance, a city. A breath spread wide of buildings and faces, where evil drains into collars … More A CITY
Roger Singer 