A passing face and familiar shadow a life shining in a moment where beauty never fades the sense of a spirit a season captured not to be forgotten like the voice making everything right and the arms of support we are each a field of planted memories youth releases us into years where … More IT’S YOU
There was a narrow reason to mourn a cerebral molting spread over partly framed orderly opinions he was a recluse of twisted dreams pure with talent a personal connection to the souls of interest within his circle he formed a texture of words weaving clouds into reality rain washed him, arms … More WARHOL GONE
The secret of being lost is the disregard for being found the luxury of blending to be part of unseen corners drifting away from everyone’s roads brushing past idle spirits and obstacles in the path the soul of travel are tents left behind places where a moment was meant for a … More BLENDING
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
It’s a twisting of hands, a thirst to indulge the spirit of the getaway, the radical, unradical of wish and desire; air through a chrome grill chews hungrily the dark of night on tendrils of unlighted roads. The tires roll out a language of hate and speed; the normal is scrapped for expression. Roads … More LOST ROADS
A cool skin night. Wood smoke. An outpost called a diner harbors evening spirits resting between points at a highway turnoff. Exiled souls from other places stare with deep nostalgia of where they should be. Few ever break the cycle of bleary eyes and dark roads. A stitching of alignment bonds the strangers. They eat … More CLOSE THE DOOR
I am a prisoner of dreams. My thoughts, stripped from time, drift me into shadowed corners. The gray and white melt from day, opening at night where eyes are teased by desert spirits. The rocks of memories are filled with ancient colors. Rivers pull at me, oceans lick my ankles. My voice is underwater, agonizing … More UNDERWATER
There was an unwillingness of movement. A stretch like tree tops in a tempest. A few indistinguishable words slipped clumsily into the air. The visions were intangible; the ones you think you touch but fail to feel. It was a spirit dream, a celebration of aesthetics. A temporary creation of interior thoughts like running … More OPEN UP
It’s a wilderness upriver where sounds become trapped and lights attempt to block out the fear of night. Loud music dispels the spirits of silence while gossipers gather in corners overlooking their own sins; a few of the faithful squeeze some sense from a hymnal. A smokescreen of shadows suggests the passing of anxious … More DOWNTOWN TURNING
Roger Singer 