an old writer and his words

  • HAUNTING

    The ghosts of my birth parentsblow into my dreams asso many white sheets tornfrom the clotheslineby gale winds, fly over me,at once angels and vulturescarrying off memoriescreated from the clayof surmise and wishful thinking. I invite their visits, frailbranches to which to clingin the storms of growing age,beginnings tenuous anchorsto hold against time, knowingthe battle…

    Lou Faber

  • WISHFUL

    “I will take it,”the aging poet saidto the ever more sparsecrowd at the weeklyopen mic,“as a recognitionis the growthin the qualityof my writingthat I continuebeing rejectedbut now by amuch higherquality ofliterary journals.”

    Lou Faber

  • THE FROG

    I can still smell the formaldahyde,see the frog pithed to the boardas I went about dissecting it,taking copious notes on whatI found, identifying organs,both of us hidden in a cornerof our fourth grade classroomso the other students didn’tfeel like they had to vomit. This Yom Kippur, even thoughI no longer practice the faithof my youth…

    Lou Faber

  • ARIA

    After years of embarrassmentI have finally come into the light.It isn’t that my writing has improved,although I surmise that wouldbe a narrow space to fill,or that I can now draw thingsthat were once stick peopleand animals and things. What has improved, andimproved significantlyis my singing voice, oncea three note range, and onenot known to music,but…

    Lou Faber

  • CHEMICAL REACTION

    Korean and Basque are orphan languagesalthough linguists prefer the termlanguage isolates, which soundsalmost chemical, as though somereaction resulted in a linguisticsediment, or distillate perhaps. If that is the proper term Isuppose I was a human isolate,which actually makes some sense,even after adoption, for I wouldlearn years later from mystep brother that I wasisolated from the…

    Lou Faber

  • STAGED

    At the moment of your birthmy son, I grew suddenly older,mortality became a realitythat I could no longer avoid. You could not imagine this,and I doubt others could seebut I knew and the infinitecollapsed inside the event horizon. Your brother came later, butthat death was incremental,a single cut among thousands,a step on a path you…

    Lou Faber

  • OCULUS

    There is little goodyou want to say aboutMacular Degeneration, lessabout geographical atrophy,nothing it seems you can dountil it crosses that lineand wetness sets in. But there is one hiddenadvantage and thatis the magical powerto make people headlessand cars disappearon the highway. All I need do is shutmy left eye and if I amten feet or…

    Lou Faber

  • SORRY, CAN’T HEAR YOU

    What I despise most about purchasing large dollar items is the factthat salesmen know onlyhow to speak in superlatives, orcaught short,comparatives. If it isn’t the bestthey will explainwhy it is, or at least betterthan anything I have now,although they haveno idea what I have. So I pretend to be deaf, and hope that theydo not know ASL,or the will seea miracle happenas…

    Lou Faber

  • A PERFECT STILLNESS

    You lie there, perfectly still,the morning breeze slides awayleaving the sun to stare down,and the birds fall into silence.  I gently touch the stone, feelyour cheek beneath my finger,see your face, the college yearbookphoto all that I have of you.  I speak silently to you, tellingof my sixty-seven years, of yourgrandsons and great grandchildrenand I…

    Lou Faber

  • HOME?

    The news, online and on paper,is replete with storiesabout adult children movingback in with their parents,whether because of the pandemic,or other circumstances, alwaysexpecting they willhave a room at the ready. Perhaps it is why wechose to have no spare rooms,sort of a preemptive strikeagainst an ill-conceived return. But as my cohort ages,I wonder if all…

    Lou Faber