Summer is the end of all rules where cottages have open window neighbors and late high flat clouds like rolled blankets signal days end but not the end of dreams its where youth has no regrets and mistakes are minor and blessings abundant
It’s a long whistle putting the hand on men and women as the earth tilts pulling them past open wooden doors into the maze of machinery where generations stood and counted hours and years until the next bodies of youth replaced names on lockers and punch clock numbers as the work produced exceeded the quality … More MACHINE SHOP
It’s the river thick with flow a moving mass of air over motion full of whispers shadowed in the past of me near where street cars pound metal and smoke stacks send signals raining soot in alleys and corners where pain and sweat speak of days of youth once thought never to end where prayers … More IN FULL VIEW
Years hold the pictures as youth fills in where legs ran forever warm days touch the side of faces in a silent act empty chairs hold shadows several times removed their song is a story of before where fondness waits for no one the clock of seasons protects the secrets of dreams … More A PATH THROUGH
A passing face and familiar shadow a life shining in a moment where beauty never fades the sense of a spirit a season captured not to be forgotten like the voice making everything right and the arms of support we are each a field of planted memories youth releases us into years where … More IT’S YOU
There’s a moment of shade for everyone. A chance to reflect familiar breezes and places of safety integrated from youth. Deep nostalgia draws exiles of thought searching for an outpost nearby, though just out of reach. It’s the thread left behind. A footprint of passage, the search to discover the end where there are layers … More SURVIVING
She considered herself a life shadow, embracing long solitary moments; eyes open to darkness. Life had become a plausible intruder as she slept away painful images and the jest of youth. She was now an unstable passenger a fleshy veneer no longer frightened of the past. She suspected the end, though assured by faith, she … More CROSSING OVER
Disturbed waters are the evidence of youths seeking a smooth belonging; searching to square off the circle. They are dreamers between rocks, pushing from a hard place, attempting to re-create the beginning without pain, escaping the fires between the lines. Fingers bait the eyes into corners. Second chances come at a cost. Seek to … More SEARCHING
From the feather edge of thoughts, stewards like marching memories stand red brick building firm. I see the common space between here and there; a sliver of everything important. I sense the layers removed. There is persuasion when the untold surfaces of common spaces, rehabilitate gray skies into the summer of youth Breezes find … More I HEAR THE SOUND
Dreams are fragrances, reminding us to remember the vision, the voice departed, the place of youth no longer visited; the person we were, but have changed. Regrets are long. Promises become minced oaths and lies hurt us the most. Attempts to make the right from the wrongs are absorbed each day; rumbling of … More CIRCLES
Roger Singer 