His strangeness lays a comfort on distant water, too far to name, too cold to be near. Wheat fields. Gold stringed faces stand void of riches like the man; both weave under winds from an angry heaven. Endless dark space above watches the brim of his hat and dull scratched buttons on a coat he … More DEEP WELLS
Years of herself filled up into her eyes; a flood of voices speaking her name. Over a back fence she sees a path leading away; looking hard with passion, the steps in her shoes hold the line. She points as if with a dieing hand to a hill, a place of memories holding tight to … More A NEED
I own the crossroads, the place of left and right, the straight and narrow, high crested curved roads and paths under rock gray clouds in valleys shared by yesterdays moon and breezes quick and cool with dust from boots traveling in circles and riding to lonely places and diners filled with searching and suspicions and … More CROSSROADS
MOVING BEYOND His hands were soft, unused. Heavy labor failed with him. His eyes were volumes of quiet words. There was a presence of confidence, though slight like random breezes. His shirt was weather thinned. Shoes labored with dirt from long roads. His hat was faded by the suns attack. He half smiled, agreeing not … More MOVING BEYOND
Roger Singer 