an old writer and his words

  • BEGGAR’S TALE

    I speak clearly, conciselyin an ancient, long forgottentongue that none understand. I tell my tale, leaving outnothing, a summonerin a deaf world, whispering of coins, pulled froman empty pocket and castat your feet, soundless. I point to signs, letteredin my careful hand, withoutmeaning, cryptic to you You urge me to trustin your god even asyou…

    Lou Faber

  • BALLET OF THE GODS

    Once they pierced your heelsto hobble you, bound upfeet and ankles to lashyou to the earth, there weren’tangels then, no wings, just the painof toes crushed inward,the silent agony of motion,a cruel joke played by godsstarved for entertainment.But Terpsichore, hearingErato’s song, set them freebrought them to a pointe,allowed them to take winglessflight, and toes became…

    Lou Faber

  • MOSES SAYS TO AARON

    We sat in the tentand you complained againof our condition, knowingwhat lies just out of reach.He speaks to me, not youand there is little you can doto hide your jealousy.I often wonder what mighthave happened if I had wipedthe blood of the lamb from your lintel.It was you who watchedthe calf take shape anddid nothing,…

    Lou Faber

  • NO BACKS

    As you age, your vision changes,and not merely that of your eyes,for you necessarily becomenear sighted about many things. Of course you dread the fact that youcould be myopic if circumstancesconspire against you, barely ableto be IN and remember the moment. Even those healthy take to mythology,and astronomy, wishing they wereTitan, living life in retrograde,…

    Lou Faber

  • COSMIC CONUNDRA

    They say that someof the rings of Saturnare braided.They also say thatRapunzel’s hairwas braided.I am a skeptic for when I stareat Saturnthrough the old binocularsI see two fuzzyastigmatic spots of lightand Rapunzel has gonepunk, and I see onlyan oversizednose ring.The sad thing isthat Jupiter’s red spotis showing signsof becominga melanoma. First published in The Post…

    Lou Faber

  • CASSIOPEIA

    You sit on your self-made throneand stare at the night skyas clouds gatherand dissipate beneath you.Do you even recallwhy you were cast out,condemned to your cell so vastyet infinitely confining?Does your body rememberthe touch of his handthe crude hunterwho set you aflamewith a white heatthat paled the sun of summer?What do you imagineas tongues of…

    Lou Faber

  • DUST AND ASHES

    Between Scylla and Charybdisthey cower amidst the ruinsfearful to look skywardlest they encouragethe rains of hell. Now and then they visitthe corpses, hastily buriedgrief drowned by the soundof the laugh of the gunnerpeering down from the hills.It is always night for the souland lookout must be keptfor Charon, who ridessilently along the rivers of blood,that…

    Lou Faber

  • IBIS SEEING YOU

    They pausein their foraging in the lawnto peer up at us,strange looking interlopers,but they are used to us by nowand return to the task at hand. We no longer find them strangethough we never quiteget used to the curvedsalmon colored beaks,and we do wonderwhy the ancient Egyptians held them sacred. It seems that theyhave never forgiventheir Egyptian ancestorsfrom affixingtheir head to…

    Lou Faber

  • FORKED TONGUE

    I can’t tell you how longit’s been since I’ve seena snake around here, mostlybecause my sense of timehas limits of a decade. I read that they are plentifulin the Everglades, huntedas an invasive species, whichprobably stands to reasonsince our hatred is by now of Biblical proportions, and wehave learned to love goats,so, it is the…

    Lou Faber

  • GROUNDED

    it was so much easier when I could stillimagine myself a bird, untetheredand free to take flight on a whim. In dreams I often flew, no Icarusbut a raptor, peering down, seeingwith a clarity the earth denied me. Now my roots have taken holdin the enmeshing soil plunged deepand spread tendrils anchoring me, and even…

    Lou Faber