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
Late into night images appear on the ceiling of my bedroom sharp angles momentary slivers of car lights traffic signals neon flashes crawling, colliding perishable images appearing then vanishing without sound as the slip down melting onto the wall
It was a night short on dreams. Abstract cellophane images without voices. Gauzy waves rising and spilling over. Busy traffic on a street, in a city I might have passed through. The sun begins to set and then rises up again; the gift of an extra day. Words write themselves onto paper, then disappear. Once … More DREAMY
From the third story window, traffic below releases a voice. The aroma of warm asphalt, oil and exhaust rises into the space between tired buildings. People imitate the ants below their feet; swerving to avoid contact. Passing anger remains concealed within; learned by everyone to survive. Eyes gaze from open windows, scanning the streets and … More OPEN WALK
It was a day dedicated to high relief, with many paths, chosen and forced; like spiders fleeing heavy noises. Statues watched with granite eyes the song of traffic and voice passing beneath stone arms lined with pigeons, as the faces merge like many streams into one great river. Eyelashes wink at an edging … More THIS DAY
A sympathetic rain washed the face of the street. Parked cars, asleep and cold lined the street. Buildings with lighted towers reached into low clouds. Gray shadows feel lazily over sidewalks. Umbrellas mushroomed up, into weaving patterns, forming a covenant between head and heaven. A fair wind lifted fallen newspapers and hats while … More FINDING SPACE
The tires slowly rolled heavy under the long black menacing frame as it entered the alley crushing pieces of glass snapping like bones of half life creatures laying under fire escapes and buzzing neon lights that have more alive than the thinned armed souls leaning on walls for balance as a curtain of humid stagnant … More HEAVY TRAFFIC
Roger Singer 