He dressed roughly, like a storm shaken tree. His corners were unbroken. A long step claimed his ground. Short salt flavored thoughts watered his words with meaning. Work was his passion. There was reason with his plans. Quality is the art he perfects. Concern speaks from his eyes. He rises before the sun, claiming each … More A FOREST WITHIN
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
It reminded me of a glass floor. Where the walk was careful and steps were applied lightly. There was a common passageway of knowledge. Absent of detours. A place where the brave refuse to rest, like unbroken thoughts of youth; deep breathes full of life’s long roads. Boundaries refrained from become reduced, yielding to the … More MOVING THROUGH
A lost intention follows a misplaced adventure. Shadows become detours, spinning webs of emotional misery and absence. Morning yells that we are older. Our shoes are stories lacking souls. We breathe in ripples and then blur out our needs as we shed cloudy desires. There is a fast lane of words we believe we can … More EASY OVER
It was good to be back under a night sky where distant stars are without names and dreams appear with ease. Where faces lost in time are hidden behind gauze filled clouds while their voices rise from rivers I crossed in the past. Campfires send of curled leaflets of sparks, blanketing a black velvet … More LAST NIGHT
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
A glance of hope. The message between pen and paper, yet to begin. Words are stored like wine until released with flavor; held in private until it breathes out a message. Indifference is the creature of thought, the expression of the unexpected. The surprise. The unimpeded flow, void of subjective influence as it flourishes like … More OLIVE BRANCH
Roger Singer 