an old writer and his words

  • LET LIE

    A friend once told meto write down my dreamsfor they are a window intothe deepest corners of the psyche.Nevermind that much of the timeI cannot begin to remembermy dreams once awake,but those corners were darkfor a reason, and sheddinglight into them will onlycause the creatures who live thereto scurry about and seek shelterin other hidden…

    Lou Faber

  • GALLERY?

    I have come to realize that I am,and have been for many years,an abettor of criminal activity.it was always intentionalbut also involuntary,and, I must add, lacking anymens rea whatsoever. In my defense I would assertthat I was defrauded as well,fleeced by someone offeringculture, albeit some of itpurchased, a few clever forgeries,some bought from those whose…

    Lou Faber

  • EYE TO EYE

    So tomorrow he’ll tell meit’s stable and he will smileI think that’s why he wentinto ophthalmology and notoncology, telling patientsthat they have cancer and thensmiling wouldn’t play welland I am willing to bet that hecannot help himself, heis just one of those smilers.And strangely, I will take solacethat my right eye is notappreciably more blindthan…

    Lou Faber

  • BAREFOOT

    He says his favorite cloudsall wear size seven shoes.He knows she believesshe once saw a paisley rainbowand will never forget it.She wears size seven shoesand her tears can be torrential,yet they can still nurturethe first flowers of spring.He imagines her a butterflysitting on the back of his hand,gossamer wings poisedat the thin edge of stillness.He…

    Lou Faber

  • AND NEXT

    “I’m not getting any younger”is, of course, a positively idiotic statementbeating the obvious to deathwith a blunt verbal instrument.But it still beats sayingthat death impends ever closerfor that is simply turgidand odious all at the same time.What I’m here to sayis that by being crematedI’m saving you all mannerof expense, no gravesite, no stone,no maintenance…

    Lou Faber

  • THE KEY

    “The key,” he said, “is to imbueyour work with poetic energy.”Those of us still botheringto pay attention at allto that empty husk of a oncewell-regarded, honored poethad no freaking idea whatthe hell he was talking aboutand we guessed he didn’t either.He was an easy A English courseand a few of us imagined ourselvesas successful writers,…

    Lou Faber

  • AKASAKA

    It sits off an alleythat winds off an alleyhalfway up the hillyou climb from Akasakato Ropponggi, cursing the layoutof the subway at the endof a too long day of meetings.There are no plastic samplesin a glass case outside the doorjust a t-shirt and beer mug, forribs and fires don’t translate wellto polystyrene and the loudoldies…

    Lou Faber

  • NOTHINGMAN

    So when you asked me whichsuperhero I would like to beI would’ve thought you mighthave narrowed it downto the Marvel or DC universes,or did you mean that I couldcreate my own superpower and persona?All of this matters, of course, for anyperson under 75 and male and manyfemales in that cohort as wellknow the vast gulf…

    Lou Faber

  • IN PASSING

    As we walk along the shoreof the man-made lakein the planned community’s “town,”the birds array themselvesin a ragged single fileas I pass and I imagined eachlooks up at me posing.Once I would’ve stopped,raised my camera, capturedthem, or their facsimilebut those days are donefor I no longer blog themone thousand posts gone byand my back and…

    Lou Faber

  • A RUNG TOO HIGH

    He is fully stuck on the hornsof a dilemma from which hecan see no way to extricate himself.He needs to get up on the roofand patch the hole beforethe storm shortly arrives full force.The old wooden ladder that hasbeen lying along the sideof the house is far too heavy for himto maneuver into position and…

    Lou Faber