From the heart a factory of tears where walls rebound or block. The eyes watch the hands fall away; they see better in darkness. Each breath folds into corners as voices pull at the blood to speak edging out truth and lies. Ears hold the place of faraway; the last words become the knife separating … More THE START OF ALWAYS
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
The memory place. A filling in of the in-between with disarmingly haunting voices wrapped in frail burlap. A cooperative sadness strives to overtake. Faces like mannequins appear with irregularity, easing the initial pains of those left behind; everyone’s looking for a familiar song. Red brick walls with a faded ad stares from the second floor; … More NEXT STREET OVER
Strangers are the archives of mysteries. Sidewalk lies brand them deep; attacked by silent words and hard faces. They are without council. Stepping from the shadows their walk is light and careful when in unwanted parts. They had dreams; stripped away after wounds, fading in horizons of travels. They have no apology, though some regrets. … More WALKING THROUGH
Black balusters and mahogany stairs lead gracefully to a parquet second floor landing. Decades of voices carried the water of words to this quiet circular elegance surrounded by bookshelves and photos of New York and Paris. Gold painted plaster moldings wrap the area like decorative ribbons. It all speaks with identity and belonging; above there … More GRACEFUL
A cool skin night. Wood smoke. An outpost called a diner harbors evening spirits resting between points at a highway turnoff. Exiled souls from other places stare with deep nostalgia of where they should be. Few ever break the cycle of bleary eyes and dark roads. A stitching of alignment bonds the strangers. They eat … More CLOSE THE DOOR
Back roads of dust break into my dreams, dividing me. I fall into waters of the past; temporary ground with shallow allotments of time. Like ships running aground, I relive fleeting sections of thoughts wrapped in vines of voices. It’s all a stage of featured impulses holding center court, like lyrical messages on the shorelines … More INTO THE CENTER
There was a glass reflection of sky and overhanging branches as we passaged down river, slipping through calm water; an excursion through nature’s lyrics. Each wide corner revealed another portrait in perfect color; small gatherings of birds swept silently above. There was a balance. A quiet tempest of greatness. An undercurrent of power not seen. … More EACH CORNER
Limestone and granite walls rise like cathedral tops toward heaven. Sidewalks and streets lay juxtaposed without solid connection. Separate souls march like Roman soldiers, dissolving into a fury of voices and city noises. There is a spreading coldness. The scales of time and culture peel back, exposing everything we try to hide. Even from elevated … More OPENING UP
It appears as a savage darkness. A shadow heavily curtained, too lengthy to draw back. It’s a relevant spirit, a stranger, though not on the street, but within us, sewn into the web of our inner skin. Voices with many faces. Moods light and soft before changing into bottomless misgivings and lies. We feel it. … More INSIDE
Roger Singer 