Under the skin, a motor of sound. Molasses fingertips play dark thick jazz. Wet soaked dirt roads kick start the aroma of his thoughts. Smooth perfumed skin smiles into his lust. His mile of strong words runs like a river engine; a power few own. A wind moves on a sweet green growing field. His … More DEEP POCKETS
The spin of his jazz rolls in grand circles twisting, tumbling over angrily into a voice of growls loosed into solid dog eared words flea bitten and worn thin like harvest fields he shouts up with blazes of fire unquenched spreading as if kicked from hell setting up swirling sparks flaming the starving Souls inhaling … More A NEW LANGUAGE
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
She’s got the pain of me in her walking hard on shadows of who we were. Her voice is my jazz favoring thoughts she planted with the water of her touch. We have captured the deep caves of each other seeing in the dark what others with eyes will never grasp.
What lies between is the cold unspoken thought, resting in calm reserve. The between is the space between a breath, the tides and love and hate. The between is uncounted time. The area where clouds change and then disappear. The between is the beginning right after the end. Its where we all start, and where … More IN BETWEEN
Words tumble. Catching one out. Proving a point or wounding a heart. Dark storms brew within the thoughts. Like a rising tide flowing out quick to sooth or heavy with pain. In the corner of the mind where shadows whisper, comparing and dissecting ideas and dreams preparing a path for words going out. Even at … More BUILDING BLOCKS
Roger Singer 