an old writer and his words

  • AN AWAKENING

    Take one partGrand Marnier, oneFrangelico, a short cupof coffee, whipped creamonly if you wish,curl on the sofawith your life’sgreatest loveand your firstreal, truly yourfirst Christmas Evemakes you wonderwhy you waitedso long. First published in The Poet: Christmas (2020 United Kingdom)

    Lou Faber

  • A NOVEL IDEA

    If I were a character in a novel, sayby Kawabata, that evening we mettwenty years ago, I would haveplaced my hand lightly on your shoulder,and I would have felt a heat,embers of a passion that would,in hours, leave me consumed by it. I was a middle-aged, soon to bedivorced man on his first datein thirty…

    Lou Faber

  • NIGHT APPROACHES

    The clouds this eveningare the deep gray that so longto be black, but the retreatedsun just below the horizonlingers long enough to deny them. The space, shrinking, betweenthe clouds, is the gray of promisethat the night will soon deny,and the birds who take overthe preserve, chant their vespers,each in his or her own language,uncommon tongues…

    Lou Faber

  • FOOTHILLS

    The clouds well upover the foothillscasting a gray pall,bearing the angry spiritsof the chindi who danceamid the scrub juniper.Brother Serra, was thiswhat you found, wanderingalong the coast, tendingthe odd sheep, Indianand whatever elsecrossed your path? The blue birdhopping across the dried grassespuffing its grey breastplate and capesitting back, its long tail feathersa perfect counterbalance.It stares…

    Lou Faber

  • ETA

    So many of the late arrivals tonightare egrets, the Cattles long inamong the reeds and brush sharingspace, only reluctantly, with the ibis. It is their snowy cousins who arriveas the horizon is a fading bandof orange gold dissipating under thefaint, unyielding eye of Venus,and seem shocked when theyare turned away with flap of wingand cry,…

    Lou Faber