There is a circle of growth, a watering of slumber, as the eyes retreat to the outlands of shadows where incoming messages open to hallways of sleep. We are captured in the snare of unknown vapors. Feet move. Hands reach. We respond with half words to voices at the backdoor of our thoughts. We twitch … More SOMEPLACE
Morning pressed in with an undercurrent of calmness, like the repose of a folded napkin next to an empty plate. Windows encourage light. The room undergoes change. Colors appear, revealing life beyond evening grays and the dark of night. Dreams of sadness become absorbed into the arms of daylight. The crossroads of sleep to standing … More THE ENGINE WITHIN
A river of stairs high above in a galaxy of streams beyond the reach of tearful upturned eyes fails to provoke an affect on order or direction within the heavens. Shadowed gray night images slip between fences and past angry sleeping dogs while pleadings and unanswered prayers attract angels waiting for words that act … More UPTURNED
Street lights sign in as dusk resigns to darkness. Scattered shadows of leaves dance on midnight sidewalks. Homes sleep in silence. Dark breezes lift curtain edges, creating life from worn cloth. Porch lights dot the galaxy of streets. Picket fences keep strangers away but ghosts pass through freely. A train whistle, distant yet sharp, bleeds … More MIDNIGHT
A day fills the pages for night dreams. Songs settle into wide branches while lovers speak in whisper language. Night is blind to evil. The land is filled with stiff gray images. A jagged twisting wind circles over smooth faces. Silence holds the greatest of weight under an early sliver of moon. … More FOREVER GONE
A seclusion moon splits between clouds, sheading onto flat fields, fence posts and tombstones. A feather soft wind song plays the leaves. Birds cease their inflight bickering. Stars reflect around the edges of sleeping lily pads. A prevailing mist covers everything like gauze, draping over stonewalls and stiff brush topped ferns. The echo of an … More COLD HANDS
Pillows are the footnotes of thoughts, the bubbling of half truths and scattered sticks of wisdom, expressed without order in the night of a room. Pillows are the guardians of words drooled from the chasm of mouths and ejected from cerebral complexities. The warden of speech releases into night swimming dreams, the backlog of anxiety … More PILLOW TALK
Under a moon of freezing light night touches the threads of sleep. Curtains lay pulled back, bunched in the middle by a cloth cord. Flowered wallpaper dreams of spring. The fireplace light wanes into gray corners. Day is a bucket of empty, yielding to frost and mice seeking shelter. Soft words … More A QUIET ROOM
A morning breeze stepped through the open window, lifting curtain edges and touching walls like the hands of a curious child. The fragrance was fresh like laundry line dried under a forever sun. In bed, the cotton blankets owned me within a twist of warm compassion, protecting me from the world beyond my … More CURIOUS HANDS
I can hear the water clock. The liquid metronome of a dripping faucet. A distinct sound muffled into silence during the day of sounds. On the ceiling, the passing reflections of headlights from passing cars below crawls over the cracked plaster. A blinking neon pulses across the street, matching the faucet drips and then … More BETWEEN THE DRIPS
Roger Singer 