an old writer and his words

  • SUBJECTION

    We have now fully masteredsubjection, some say we havedone it so often it is nowinherent in our nature.It is hard to argue that pointand we are now practicing iton more than other groups,we have turned our practiceon nature and her species.Birds are a perfect example.Applying our tried and truemethods we have slowly takentheir territory, forcing…

    Lou Faber

  • THE PARK

    He was taking a shortcut across the park. He saw the clouds building, about to bring the long-promised rain. He wasn’t sure why he decided to walk home rather than take the bus as he usually did. He didn’t like to walk, but the doctor had told him he needed to exercise more, and he…

    Lou Faber

  • FIVE BIRDS

    The cold winter breezepalm fronds shivering at dawnegrets remain still a thousand birds landengage in conversationa foreign language arriving at duskwhite ibis strive to decidewho is the alpha the cat sits watchingthe sandhill crane approachesthey speak to each other a single ibisstruts across newly mown lawnsdinner now awaits

    Lou Faber

  • OUT OF REACH

    The Middle East continues to melt downlike an out of control nuclear pileleaving destruction and crushed dreamsscattered about the vast sandscape.I imagine God watching from highup in the heavenly grandstandknowing that so many others are nothere to see the race, only to wait forwhat they hope is the inevitable crash.Once He liked looking on Jerusalemwatching…

    Lou Faber

  • INTO THE INFERNO

    The teacher no doubt thought it was funny hanging a banner on the door to his classroom reading “Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch’intrate.” He would snicker as the new students would look at it with puzzled expressions while he remained silent. Some might even ask but he would always gnore or dismiss the question. That…

    Lou Faber

  • CONTACT

    When did it become surprisingfor a stranger passing on the sidewalkto offer a nod or even a hello?Perhaps it is a matter of geography,in some states, the warmer ones,it does seem much more common,or perhaps it is a matter more local,common in this neighborhoodnot nearly so much in that one,and downtown it is a complete…

    Lou Faber

  • MEMO TO MEMOIR

    I will recitemy absurdist life,and do so without coercionsave my need to tell it.Imagine a new wave filmin French, perhaps,directed by Dali and youmay approach my truth.If this is beyond you, Idon’t care, do you?In the end it is youthe listener who writesmy story, my life,and I am merelythe pen and paper,the prompt, so pleasehelp…

    Lou Faber

  • FASCINATION

    They strut across the yard as ifimagining themselves peacocks,trying to attract the eye of anyonewho might glance in their direction.The day is slowly fading, the sunreluctant to depart hoversover the waiting horizon fascinatedby these large birds on stilted legs.The cat, ensconced on the lanaiwanders over to the screenand calls out quietly, invitingconversation, always willing to…

    Lou Faber

  • THE RIVER OF SADNESS

    I have written poems about my grandfathersand the lives I was told they led,having met none of them, but I knewI was appropriating their stories, claimingthem as my legacy although all I was doingwas adopting them, as their children hadadopted me, none of the stories truly mine,and I only family by the thinnest of tiesthat…

    Lou Faber

  • FOR A WORD

    Consider for a moment justhow different things might betoday, perhaps only in small ways,if one particular Mary hadnever been sainted, for thenthe asylum in London might wellhave had a different name, notSt. Mary’s of Bethlem for Bethlehem.If that had happened there wouldbe no bedlam in the world, tothe obvious frustration of politicianswho would have to…

    Lou Faber