I got the hope of summertime in my back pocket; a nickel worth of dreams next to a half-eaten candy bar. Fast cars and leather jackets. Long lines and chrome from clouds of mercury shimmer down the street. The waves of Monterey scrawl out on a wide sandy shore, whispering names under a … More TALKING TO SHADOWS
The veil of youth is a door, or many doors where summer flourished all year in warmth. Games were fields of testing strength and speed, fight and spit. We possessed joints of steel and muscles with stretch; no mountain was too great. Arms were machines and legs springboards. The soul laughed at death and scorned … More YOUTH
A name within dust, like leaves of past seasons, lingers as if turning aimlessly in a stream, trapped in corners of going nowhere. A laboring fan jealously absorbs shadows, twisting the shapes like sheep scattering. A voice, a soulless breath, runs the air in search of a place to settle. Words tumble … More THIS PLACE
On a nearby corner people gather like twisted vines, listening to street rhythms and sidewalk music. Standing there was a rite of passage, an image statement of you. It’s where passions are formed and spirits blend, where names have value and brotherhood reigns. The traffic is a language in motion. A sound familiar and expected … More THE CORNER
It’s a great river, pushing currents Grinding out paths where flow and tides Gain strength, rising then cresting back Working the heart, gaining speed Unable to stop, the clock its motion Simply fights in silence. Youth escapes from bronzed summer skin, Uncombed hair, footprints thought to last, Fade regardless of prayers, tears or anger. … More TIME
I am in the autumn leaves, the aroma of a passing season, the space between lines of days dripping from edges with sounds of violins mentioning my name. All paths look similar, like dream faces pulled from clouds; the sun marks me in the last of warmth. I am somewhere like a bookmark between pages of … More ALWAYS HERE
A gauze of filtered light set the pattern of a checkered sun streaming across the table. An uneasy ghost of air plagued the room, circling quietly in an overhead fan then twisting to the floor where it slides into corners, stirring dust and yesterdays webs. A brief summer steals the warmth of August days with … More INFINITY SKY
The leaves of his life float on streams created by a curious desire to be someplace else. Dust turns up behind footsteps soothing the travel born to him. Heavy doors swing shut on the pain of uncorrected loves and insincere handshakes. Clouds are his canopy of protection, a mist of heaven, covering what he has … More MISTS OF HEAVEN
He survives the years and faces departed in early breezes; there are few now who remember him as a child. Tears stain everyone. His skin is smoothed. Fingers once busy warm in the sun. His eyes once of youth and feet born of Mercury, rest willingly. He sleeps in parts. Lightly at first and then … More MORNING COFFEE
Cannonades of sound spilled out announcing the coming and going of time the salt of thoughts watered with oceans persistent waves like gladiators of foaming armies spreading wide the release of tossing sand and rocks seeking a new level unasked for until lifted by or rolled out to calmer decorated ergs waiting to be tugged … More BACK AND FORTH
Roger Singer 