under dunes ancient paths pressed by sand rocks and skeletons lying beside, evidence covered and then recovered, time preserved, desperate voices absorbed, disorder with perfection, void of seasons absent of sounds protected within ancient layers
weathering is an expression of time displayed, faded paint like aged skin a balding roof front porch chains minus a swing, a three legged chair an unhinged screen door windows without glass spider webs and vines weeds and the wild reclaiming what once was alive
on the other side of time, the area between is crowded with shadows, broken promises and the right to be understood as changes occur like the flow of clouds, nameless, but important, almost enough to break into the blues like reliving the history of each year, after the first breath of morning as day passes … More ALMOST
one a great force the other invisible both unrestrained resistant to change regardless of seasons constant as gravity seconds move the hands clouds possess miracles comfort eases the pain of the weakness we fail to overcome to change either one lest the gift of each be wasted
Discovery of voice A print of oneself Black and white photos The shape of us Multiple shades and shadows Memory reflections Voices in the wall Reappearing seasons Reality to fiction Mirrors mark time Searching for the edge Discovering the unexpected One more length to go Prayers answered The other side
the energy of day resigns itself to evening thin shadows cast linen gray images onto sides of cottages and front porches the soil and trees release a tired breath as night occupies all spaces darkness closes day lilies, a reminder that time runs with us until it fails
unashamed smoky alleys, rock walls overlook back porch squatters pigeons wary of a changing breeze and strangers without wings garble a frightened message taking flight barred windows, forgotten garbage, and bells ringing, signal the top of the hour; for some the end, others, late for dinner
forgiveness looks back from the mirror with half smiles, like the lesser wings of angels it’s the time lost, the unscheduled acts of life, trapped in water, with the allure of youth washed out in scars and wounds wrinkles unstoppable speak a visible war of seasons in constant forward motion … More A MIRRORS VOICE
unkempt hours lacking value steal the breath out of day anxious wishing tries to move time, though fails against the push within the clutter of desks and chairs heads lean like gravestones while the eyes of one look like the eyes of another
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”
Roger Singer 