an old writer and his words

  • CALENDAR

    As a child I lived next door to a calendar,but not the kind mother always hungon the wall next to the refrigerator, two,one for school events and the obligationsattendant on parenthood and the otherfor holidays, and adult social events,the important one she’d say whenshe thought we couldn’t hear.My calendar was Mrs. Kanutsu,the woman next door,…

    Lou Faber

  • IMPENDING DEPARTURE

    They finally used the wordor one near enough to itand she was not surprised,she almost welcomed it.You can grow jealous of thosewith a depth of faiththat a sentence of monthsor perhaps less is receivedwith grace and a smile, a nodand a statement “I’m morethan ready to go home now,back to my husband.”I hope I will…

    Lou Faber

  • WANDER WHY

    The path meandered more than he rememberedbut he was the first to admithis memory was never his strongest suit.It didn’t help that he had consumedtwo margaritas at lunch, and even hedidn’t believe the excuse that this wasa slow day for him, still sober at two in the afternoon.But he wandered the path, for thatis what…

    Lou Faber

  • TROTSKY

    He slipped the knife quicklybetween two ribs as hewas carefully trained,withdrew it and placed itinside the raincoat, a bit oddin the bright sun of Mexico City. He disappeared into the streetsand later toiled in an endlessseries of five year plans,sharing the small apartmentsharing bread and the linesalways the lines and waiting. Now in Moscow he…

    Lou Faber

  • SHARING

    It wasn’t exactly what you wanted, butyou probably wouldn’t have been all that upset.It was all about you, but not for you, thatcomes later, and we know you’ll be pleased.This one was for some of us who needed thisto be able to keep going, to keep from lookingonly back, into the darkness that is our…

    Lou Faber

  • ANYWHERE BUT

    I was twelve at the time, would havechosen to be anywhere but there.I hated visiting her at home, but thistook my disgust to a whole new level.We were never close, never would be,she so old, so old world, so unlikeanyone I had known, so like the womensitting outside the old hotels on South Beachwaiting for…

    Lou Faber

  • THE EDGE OF DREAMS

    On the razor edge of dreamsthe periphery of consciousnessa face appears, and I am left to wonderwho this person is, who he might be.At first he is a childwith a pixie cut, a bowl placedover the head, the bangs cutwithout considering the face peering outand others peering in.But, as sleep washing the lastsands of consciousness…

    Lou Faber

  • HISTORY

    Deep in the valley of memoryon the altar of Areswe sacrifice them, always youngeach generation we areAbraham unrestrained,the pardon always moments late.We are Olmecs, relying noton the sun’s passagebut on a mainspring tightly wound.Our gods hunger and mustbe sated lest we lose favorand their image change. In our boneyardpriests and victimsslowly decomposefade into earthwashed deepby…

    Lou Faber

  • I WANT

    I want the sky to be that certain crimsontinged with burnt sienna and cinnabar,but today winter is holding swayand the sun sneaks off behindthe gray wall from which it only peeked,and left the day one of grayscalewhere intensity replaced beautyand even the cardinal opted to stayhigh in the spruce, offeringonly an occasional glint of red.We…

    Lou Faber

  • ROCK AND HARD PLACE

    The hardest age by faris the one where you are stuckin the middle, children below,parents above, and utterly nohope of escape from the vise.Things your mother could do effortlesslynow seem impossible for her, and thosethings now need doing immediately.Your children, ever wise at creatingnovel approaches to anything they wantin life regardless of your opinion,suddenly cannot…

    Lou Faber