there’s a desert on the edge of the last thought or spoken word a mystery wide and full like a blue Egyptian sky or the walls of Babylon a whisper of an answer a tear caught within a lie a song without words safe and attached
the story within a song a passing face the sound of your name a closing door morning rain first falling leaves last summer day the other glove soft side of a hand a spring wreath an old letter favorite shoes the chance for again the sun absorbing rain the cat that came back a road … More PIECES
Removing the coat of protection the curtain once important breaking away from the person within where the dust of youth is a repeating song while pushing out the voices of ghosts and shadows
Every evening he gazed up at evening stars whispering words he collected or a poem or song he was fond of watching the mist of his breath layer gently into cool air and even if clouds blocked his view he continued to speak knowing the stars were still there
A guitar with a sad sound creates a shadow with a soul a spirit song blending within the air in a room on the second floor overlooking traffic where the usual stick figures battle below within the stream of unremembered faces lacking interest yet directing themselves forward to the store or the corner some returning … More SECOND FLOOR
A shred of sunlight a mystery rising without song halting dreams for another time eyes open like day lilies testing morning you get in the car go beyond where you should be under approaching clouds and the edge of limits pushing hard stirring the dust past words like “come back”
Its on the edge of the desert an open door welcomes the thirsty and the curious ashtrays full of last nights words and crushed hearts where leather jackets and quarters keep the juke box breathing passing freight trains push a melody to someplace where truckers kill time until the coffee turns … More ONE STAR DINER
A wedge or orange waits for morning fingers a black cat at the screen door; a pinch of salt over the shoulder same radio songs weather changes clouds always appear last patch of snow in the shaded corner of the shed a few buds up high on trees thrive where sunlight … More WINTER FADES
The streets are me broken chains of thought in the company of whistles and horns a subway below sidewalks of people fishing for space between crosswalks while a guitar and sax play songs for quarters and dimes all beneath a sun and clouds forming shade and shadows as the engine is motion
the shadow staggers behind out of rhythm humming a song no one ever heard there were times of shadow separation crossing the line a string of walk-a-ways never followed through or followed up and the lack of respect the disinterest toward the shadow spending time leaning, fading back, crossing over or through … More JUST TO THE SIDE
Roger Singer 