an old writer and his words

  • 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

  • CLUELESS

    As someone who once taught Introductionto Literature at a local college, I was alwaysamazed to learn how little my studentsseemed to know about the great canon of workthat was the foundation of all they read.Some at least recognized that the West Side Storytheir parents had forced them to watch,and worse, to listen to, was based…

    Lou Faber

  • NIGHT AT THE ALLUSIVE TAVERN

    He had been sitting there for hours, days,how many “last calls” had he heard?He watched Beckett and Eliot come and gobut he sat waiting, patiently, no Godot for him.He had long since lost his now empty pen,his pockets grown stuffed with damp cocktailnapkins, the story of his life bleeding slowlyinto the worn fabric of the…

    Lou Faber

  • FOR THE BIRTHDAY BOY

    On April 23 of this coming year,Wiliam Shakespeare will celebratehis 450th birthday, a momentous occasionto be certain, but knowing how cantankeroushe can be the odds of him showing upat the party I want to throw for him areabout as slim as the odds of Bob Dylanever sitting down on the edge of the stagewherever he…

    Lou Faber

  • AI EH?

    Please be aware that this poemwas not generated by nor wasthe writing assisted by Generative AI.The words and thoughts are mine,and mine alone so there is no machineintelligence to take the blame forwhat I might or might not say.I wanted to assure you of thisand thought of ways I could insurethat you would believe me,…

    Lou Faber

  • YOU ODE ME ONE

    I should write an ode to my catbut she claims all of the good oneshave already been written and shewould not settle for less than the best.She says I could write an odeto the television remote or eventhe microwave oven, but I noteto her that an ode is to someone,something worthy, beneficialand she nods in…

    Lou Faber

  • AMETHYST DREAMS

    He leans on the barin the pose of the Thinkerlost in a reverie of Bourbon,odd bits of foolscapscattered about, coastersfor peanut shells,and the odder jotsof the unbegun epic.In the hazeof another cigarettehe fingers the violetworry beads.“Amethustos,” he muttersas if calling fortha god or a musebut his callgoes unreturnedby the unrepentant grain.He imagines himselfa bishop to…

    Lou Faber

  • AND NOT A PRINCE

    I suppose I could sit hereand emulate Hamlet, questionexistence, lose myself in a bookand when asked what I was readingreply words, words, words untilmy questioner doubted my sanity.But my father is gone, the biologicalone and both adopted onesfor bad measure, and so areboth mothers, so the key relationshipin that play has no underpinning in mine.And…

    Lou Faber

  • OUT FOR REVISION

    Someone, I cannot remember who, suggestedto me that I write the story of the world,not that the world needs another edition,but perhaps because it would occupy meand I’d stop sharing my poetry that so fewreally want to read and do so out of politeness.I thought about this and it is an intriguing project,for I would…

    Lou Faber

  • CRIME SCENE

    It was far and away the worstcrime scene he could rememberand he had been at it for many years.Over here were the bodiesof anapests and dactylsmotionless where they fell,oh how he wanted to pulla white sheet over themfor his sake if not for theirsfor they were beyond caring.By the wall he saw a trocheehalf draped…

    Lou Faber