He was a life less used. A flower rejecting water. He considers himself a square, surrounded by a circle; room to stretch but never enough to change position. The drumming of his words sway like wheat heads driven by random winds as his words release, explaining the unnecessary. He drums his fingers on … More OPEN HARVEST
STREET VIEW Indifference streaming. Decades of walls. Doors locked. Playgrounds hold the future. Dogs bark at shadows. Every fence leans with weak defense. Overgrown empty lots have no memory. Black suits and hats. Generations of braided hair and faithful prayers. Winsome songs slip to the background. Faces like flowers bloom with smiles. … More STREET VIEW
Raging winds ran the streets like wolves in search of unsuspecting prey. Hats took flight. Garbage can lids spiraled like runaway Olympic discus’. Newspapers trashed the sky with yesterdays sales and obituaries. Hats tumbled like children on the last day of school. Down 7th avenue a gust of random winds created the sound of trains … More ROTTEN APPLE
Streets feed on the language of cool and jive. Tongues of curtains slip from sides of windows as if pointing with their curves with creases to music like steam rising in waves over blacktop rumbling energy the sound moves pressing against doors and into alleys as night encourages the people to open packages wrapped … More STREET LANUAGE
Abandoned newspapers jump into flight, cartwheeling over the parking lot, flattened on a fence. Its abstract art of yesterday’s news; the death of a soldier, a circled apartment on East 86th and fifth. A trumpet player joins the wind, flattening out the notes, falling into rhythm, welcoming the noise. It’s a night avoiding … More COUNTING SHEEP
The brownstone building rises high at the corner. Cornucopia edges run to the corners where fierce concrete gargoyles with mottled teeth repel invisible spirits. Open windows welcome city air. Curtains run ripples on the side. Half pulled shades flutter. Pigeons circle overhead, landing noisily on the ledge. The elderly gather in packs on … More BROWNSTONE
Deep within the soft twists of voices the blessings from angels is woven within the thorns of hearts, releasing a blessing of sweet words like manna on sidewalks as day washes over dusky curtains of faces and shoulders. There is no room for wings within crowds where the language of the streets seeks the weak … More ANGEL WINGS
A city rain fell in long lines, washing dust into gutters. Twilight, the mistrals of dark, waved hands of breezes over streets with quiet sounds. Engines of feet plodded into puddles, splashing wetness with disregard. Night dreams creep from open windows. The sound of doors mark the clock of darkness. Bedroom … More ASHES
Wide streets cluttered with life. Threads of voices. Open market. Awnings with stripes. Aprons with pockets. Busy hands, strong and soft. Silk skirts. Cut flowers, carnation strong. Youth with a vision. The world moving on sidewalks. Colorful hydrants. White walled tires. Black Cadillac’s. Patent leather shoes. Gold chains. Grandmothers watching. Package store drinkers. Trucks and … More HARLEM
Innocent violence creates the sediment of the street. The people, the open windows, full of colors, spirits lifting out of gray shadows and black roads. The streets are never satisfied, always hungry, hands reaching Hammering voices, Words speaking loud and sweat dripping. City spirits drift uneasy, searching alleys for faces hiding. … More HIGH GROUND
Roger Singer 