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UNDERGROUND VOICES: POETRY
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ROGER SINGER
A small town Wagon wheels Breath thin tracks On mornings tears Flat with dew, Like slipping water Over mossy rocks. Windows weeping Smooth with dust Eagerly speak of Small handprints While lazily reflecting Shadows drifting past. A dog barks rough At a sleeping man Beaten by demons From bottled whiskey Begging freedom Into open mouths. Black metal wheels Steamed with smoke, Roughened by heat, Sits weary of travel With miles long past, Soaked with time. Stale Air A forgotten room Breathed weakly With stale air; Layered dust Silently sleeping Clings thickly. A pale flat sun Spread tired slivers Onto the wall Where a photo Of a thin man Stares without end. A door sits ajar, Neither closed Or fully open, Starkly suggesting The passage Of someone. Work Gloves Leather thick With worn edges Speaking of work, His gloves lay Sunning themselves Like tired snakes Resting on palms. Nestled in shade Under summer leaves Thick with green He casually eats, While perfume From preparing hands Speaks of home. Anxious fingers Harshly awaken Sleeping gloves; Their warmth Trundles to safety Busy hands Until day faints. Dr. Singer attained his doctorate in chiropractic from Logan College of Chiropractic, St. Louis, Missouri. Dr. Singer has served on Legislative and Practice Management committees for the American Chiropractic Association, lecturing at a number of chiropractic colleges in the United States, Canada and Australia, and has authored over 50 articles pertaining to chiropractic management and legal guidelines for associates. He has maintained a solo practice for the past 30 years. |
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© 2008 Underground Voices |
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