Graveside flowers bless the unholy standing by looking down curious about the passage through the path yet taken by the living the name now on stone to live longer than the soul beneath the trees nearby watching over changing seasons absent of sympathy for this and others and memories of names on cards and voices … More LAST TIME
There was disorder within the order a calmness unexplained the seasons understood, time blinked with favor the wonder of it all held captive the growth of something new reminding us of change the solid cornerstones remain benchmarks of what yet becomes real
Walking the dream on legs without stars a release drives within like seasons changing from equatorial spinning pushing us against celestial misgivings of unanswered prayers where whispers and voices strain through burlap separating the living from storytellers as miracles wait to be called out from hiding.
Years hold the pictures as youth fills in where legs ran forever warm days touch the side of faces in a silent act empty chairs hold shadows several times removed their song is a story of before where fondness waits for no one the clock of seasons protects the secrets of dreams … More A PATH THROUGH
Needles of streams form rivers; moving water the substance of spare parts a sliding territory under moon and sun. It’s design is a creative covering of millennial cooperation with pathways to the ocean; a friendship of ancient land and rock. In season it can become a crown of betrayal connecting briefly with the … More RESTLESS STRENGTH
A felt hat. A round angel wing molded from seasons. Warming the think machine while wandering the town in winter from rains and frost on the jacket borrowed from a clothesline in an alley where last night’s party revelers slept through a midnight rain while some searched for fame and dreams beyond the fingertips beneath … More IN THE MOVE
It’s a slow step into cold air; the season twists out a new face. A cat meows at a half moon. Heaven hears the barking of angry dogs. Strands of mist stretch from street lights. Whispers rise from the alley. Window dressings slumber. Libraries welcome closing hours. Rain reduces the burden of clouds. Dead winter … More A LINE DRAWN
The clock of many faces. Wrinkles stretched from time. Destiny swims in the eyes and legacies sweat from hard work. The silence of seconds push the hands into the next hour; no song can comfort the waste of circles within circles. Dawn and dusk feed on one another. Children are the second chance to find … More THIS WAY
A wide meandering path leads to an abandoned great house. An iron gate, twisted with rust, separates the perimeter of the property from the outside world. Debris of various sorts lay scattered on the weed infested lawn along with seasons of leaves and broken branches. Half buried prehistoric boulders, the other half in China, rise … More KEEP OUT
Red cowboy boots. Dust with living legends. Blue jeans, the working uniform. Skies with danger and full sun. The aroma of wet hay and work horse saddles. Leather reins, the steering wheel bound to a bit. Seasons that blend. Calloused hands. Facial lines, the human rings of trees. Sweat stained hats. Beards and tattoos. Cold … More BUNK HOUSE
Roger Singer 