an old writer and his words

  • THIS POEM

    will not marvel at the dawn will not stare at the ebb and flow of the sea will not see ghosts in the clouds over Dachau  will sit on the page staring back will remember the torn wallpaper will cry out, always unanswered  will not trace your spine, lingering on each vertebra will not make…

    Lou Faber

  • CONVERSATION WITH THE GODS

    This could be one of those days when you think you might want to finally climb Olympus and have that discussion with the gods. They’ve been up there forever and it isn’t clear they serve any Purpose other than taking up space and betting on when Sisyphus will get the rock to the top of…

    Lou Faber

  • SUITS HIM

    She says she is certain that she has seen the archangel Gabriel. It was late at night, to be sure, but it clearly wasn’t someone of this world and equally clearly not an alien, since there was no UFO or wormhole. She knew, as well, it wasn’t God, “Why would God trifle with me, when…

    Lou Faber

  • IN MEMORIUM: NAMELESS ONE

    My muse drowned in a torrent of words. I buried her on page 243 of War and Peace. Kafka read the eulogy, while Ferlinghetti dozed in the third pew. I sat Shiva for a week and the guests brought endless casseroles of Westlake, Cornwell and Kellerman. I waited for Ondaatje to sooth my grief, but…

    Lou Faber

  • REFLECTIONS ON A FATHER NEVER KNOWN

    The sun is obscured by half-lidded eyes.  We are standing together on a small beach.  Twenty toes are curled in the wave packed sand.  We are in Cascais, or perhaps Estoril. The waves spread their foam capped fingers through the rocks and cradle us.  He wants to drive down the coast, to see the boats…

    Lou Faber

  • DREAMING MAUI

    I found it on a map this morning. I had been there once before but wasn’t looking, so I missed it I suppose. It is a place where poetry is born, where it wells up out of the earth, seeping across the landscape, casting an enticing light. It is a magical place to which few…

    Lou Faber

  • SCHRODINGER’S DREAM

    Inside the box the cat is alive and the cat is not alive but Schrodinger is dead or the idea of Schrodinger is dead. We walking into the store – he was sitting, rough hewn face in hands, staring at a table covering, ignoring our approach.  He barely looked up when we paid when the…

    Lou Faber

  • TAKING FLIGHT

    A man ran down the street this morning, flapping his arms. It wasn’t clear if he was running for exercise, moving his arms in the bitter cold, or actually thinking they were wings and with enough motion he might take off. There is also the possibility that he was simply crazy and a look at…

    Lou Faber

  • LETTING GO

    Dawn is announced by the sound of the bell, its echo chasing off the ghost of night leaving but whispers of what he cannot tell. Looking inward the mind seeks to rebel, to vanquish the simple call of the light. Dawn is announced by the sound of the bell and the peace of dreams shattered…

    Lou Faber

  • TRICKSTER

    “Coyote is always out there waiting, and Coyote is always hungry.”  — Navajo Saying

    Lou Faber