The world past the front porch, watching the same clouds set in the magic of the sky prayers lift up from swings and wicker chairs escaping through tired screens cars passing know only of roads, the next corner the direction home or close to it train whistles cross over buildings and empty … More SWING ON
I’m living out the words from today, stretching the soul of meaning, wringing out the moisture from afternoon rains and storms. I remember the winds roughing up my hair, combing it into a mess, lifting off a few springs to tumble after green leaves and a few branches. …..and … More TODAY’S WORDS
An encampment of thunder breathes boldly nearby, announcing its presence like armies marching on cobblestone streets wearing tin hats and garbage lid shoes. A salvo of explosions beats out a rhythm painting the sky and land with sound releasing the rain and a cold cutting wind speaking the language of turbulent power while claiming the … More THUNDERING
The language of a lone whistle breaks into dark, as the train puffs like a worm on fire coursing through town, swirling and forcing its sound into corners like a mad overflowing river. Dogs take no notice. Shadows remain under bridges. Small fires burn, warming hands of the empty and lost. The earth rumbles, pulling … More NIGHT PASSAGE
Roger Singer 