There’s a moment of shade for everyone. A chance to reflect familiar breezes and places of safety integrated from youth. Deep nostalgia draws exiles of thought searching for an outpost nearby, though just out of reach. It’s the thread left behind. A footprint of passage, the search to discover the end where there are layers … More SURVIVING
A fallen sun drowned in black. Iron painted sky, the hammers of thunderstorms hidden within. Angel wings fall from heaven. Insane nightmares scream through canyon walls. Monsters live in the rush of rain; green blue waters hemorrhage mud brown. Cymbal crashing winds sever branches. The storm consumes the weak and unstable. The orchestra of … More OPEN ABOVE
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 was a black moon night absent of shadows, full of dreams. Days bouquet of clouds melted into tasteful air. There was a release of sounds, living for a moment, then lost. The pulse of dark became strong. A light breeze engaged unwilling leaves. Stone walls held tightly the history of land. There was a … More ALWAYS THERE
She considered herself a life shadow, embracing long solitary moments; eyes open to darkness. Life had become a plausible intruder as she slept away painful images and the jest of youth. She was now an unstable passenger a fleshy veneer no longer frightened of the past. She suspected the end, though assured by faith, she … More CROSSING OVER
Fall back under early stars. The sea moves reflective waves, pulsing onto sand, building like engines of thunderous clouds. Streams of people merge into temporary spaces; strangers on corners, a brief land of shoulders staring straight ahead. A steady rain clears the dust. Afternoon finds a place before dusk. Footsteps continue. Everyone owns a portion … More UNDERNEATH
Night shadows are the feast of awakenings. The outskirts of compassion, absent of spiritual thresholds. They are the counterparts without conversation; the willing partner in an imperfect sphere. They are unassuming. Their intension is directed, visually controlled, a bondage of motion; their gifts are weightless, failing to intrude. Style is choreographed without independence or expression. … More SHADOW LINE
There was a lifting of dreams, a rising of hope. An overreach through memories. A rhythm of power covering the wounds of neon’s from towns without names and unfamiliar faces. He was a velvet hitchhiker searching for a yawn of Relief. Secret angels touch the soul of his shoulder guiding him away from creative misfortune. … More ONE STEP PAST
It’s my shoreline. A place of footsteps and whispers, high clouds, blue cobalt skies, forever horizon; it’s a song I live. A moment brings me in, an hour holds me tight. It’s a place without time, without changing, it holds the strength of me. I am the shadow of here. I stand on the edge … More MY ROCK
Strangers are the archives of mysteries. Sidewalk lies brand them deep; attacked by silent words and hard faces. They are without council. Stepping from the shadows their walk is light and careful when in unwanted parts. They had dreams; stripped away after wounds, fading in horizons of travels. They have no apology, though some regrets. … More WALKING THROUGH
Roger Singer 