an old writer and his words

  • YOU AGAIN?

    On the path around the pondthe male of a pair of Sandhill Cranesstares closely at us wondering, perhaps,which if any of us actually belongs here.We more than return his stare, fumblingfor our cameras that claim they are phones,wanting to capture this moment.The crane proudly approaches, getsinches from the arm-extended phone. Is hetrying to see what…

    Lou Faber

  • HERE’S LOOKING AT YOU

    The mirror and I broke up this morning. We’d been together quite a while but I was tired of its refusal to show the real me and not some aged version the mirror created. The mirror, of course as it always did, said it was not at fault, but it always says that. It tried…

    Lou Faber

  • GOOD MORNING

    The wetland isno longer wet a burgeoning forest of Carolina WillowThe birds that nested hereby the multiple dozens that overnighted by the thousands have moved on.But each morning I arise to the call of the Limpkin the closest thing we have to a rooster.

    Lou Faber

  • CHANGES

    Each morning after arisingI look in the mirrorI imagine everything is the same as the day beforeI imagine everything has changedf rom the day before.I do ask the mirror what itbelieves has changed, what itbelieves has stayed the same.Most days it says nothing, merelystares back at me, mocking.Occasionally the mirror will concedethat it is another…

    Lou Faber

  • COLLEGE DAYS

    All these years later he still could not fathom why he had done it. It wasn’t something he had thought about doing, but one day he just did it, showed up and got the gig on the carrier current station that reached 96% of the campus. On a good day. But he liked it and…

    Lou Faber

  • LOOKOUT

    The osprey sits atopthe light pole on the streetalongside the small lake.His morning songis enchanting, but as weapproach, he pauses itand stares down.Is he staring at the lakeseeing the motionof a fish soon to becomehis next meal?That would makesense, but he seemsinstead to be staringat me as I walk byand I have to wonderif he…

    Lou Faber

  • WHICH

    Tomorrow it will beFriday again, so we knowthe decision is looming, one wehave grown used to, one that weagonize over although in any schemeof things it is trivial at best.But here we are trying to decidewhich of two coffee shops weshould visit tomorrow morning,a bagel and cortado at either,one close, nice and pedestrianbut with the…

    Lou Faber

  • ALBANY, THURSDAY NIGHT

    It is a cheap moteljust off the highway,across from the mallnow almost empty of cars,a room not much biggerthan a bed, a desk anda small nightstand.The diet cola is sweatingdespite the breezeof the air conditioner,the television flickers.I have left a wake up callhoping I arise beforethe jangle of the phoneknowing I will not.Corso lies on…

    Lou Faber

  • IT WILL WAIT

    I’ve finally given up the internal debateabout whether to turn the phone offduring the night, no longer worryingthat I would miss a critical call.I have lived more than long enoughto know that the only calls that comein the heart of the night are thoseannouncing a disaster, a crisis ormost often, recently, another death.I know now…

    Lou Faber

  • UNFOLDING

    Wake into the morning’s lightunsure of how you arrived in this moment,of what this day may promise,of how it will unfurl before you, perhapslike a work of art of a dementedorigami unfolding randomly, everythingor nothing at all, no way of knowing.This could be a delusion, could bethe dregs of a dream that night left behind,could…

    Lou Faber