an old writer and his words

  • TRAVEL THOUGHTS 2

    In the City of Chicagoit appears to the visitorthat the expresswaysand most of the city streetswere paved by a blind manwith a rather poor sense of touch. First Appeared in Exquisite Corpse, Vol. 7, No. 10-12, October-December 1989.

    Lou Faber

  • TESTAMENT

    Christ and his discipleswalk slowly through the lobbyen route to the bar, discussingthe evil of war and blind obedience.They push three tables togetherand slowly drain the pitchersof Bud draft, laughingover the sound of the Karaoke.As the evening draws itselfinto night, he boastsin Aramaic that hehas translated more than halfof the Bhagavat Gita,although he much prefersthe…

    Lou Faber

  • ROBO

    The phone is again ringing,and the odds say it is someonewho wants to extend my warrantyon the car I no longer own, or to lower my credit card interestthough I never carry a balance,or to help me fix my computer if Ijust hand over control to them. I won’t answer this time, almostnever do unless…

    Lou Faber

  • ISRAEL’S JUSTIFICATION FOR THE BOMB

    Once it was fur hatsmen on horsebackswords and torchesour villages casting a faint glowfalling into dying embers,here, one whose skullbears the mark of the hoof,there an old onewho would go no farther. Once it was a helmettanks for horsesflames contained in crematoriacities taken for the deservingwe, merely ashesshoveled into a pit,here a tooth, its goldtorn…

    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

  • TIDAL SHIFTS

    It’s difficult enough, Mom, that Inever got to meet you, to see your facesave in a college yearbook, to haveonly a few relatives acknowledgemy existence despite the DNA testthat clearly links us, one to the other.What makes it more difficult istrying to figure out my heritage,my geographic roots before our familyarrived in West Virginia, backin…

    Lou Faber

  • THE RUNES

    Here, in these unmown fields where the morning mists gather once stood the ancient chieftain his clan assembled about him staring into the distant trees under the watchful eye of the gods. As the October winds blew down from the hills, they strode forward blades glinting in the midday sun ebbing and flowing until the…

    Lou Faber

  • KIKE

    Third grade, religious school kikes, us, then a backhand raised, drawn, quickly dropped, below a reddened face, sleeve pulled up 145233 in black between elbow and wrist and a tear, perched fearing to fall. Never again, and nothing more, later, same arm ruffling hair, smoke clinging to aging skin, no older when he walked in…

    Lou Faber

  • KAFKA

    June 13, 1896, Prague a warm day, old stone schul you stood before the minyon wearing the skullcap repeating ancient words that lay on paper, rehearsed sounding false on a tongue swollen in anxiety. Your tallit, white woven with blue threads hung at your knees fringe fingered, rolled and unrolled, twisted until touched to skin…

    Lou Faber

  • A SUDDEN DEPARTURE

    You sneaked away one night. You were there, but while sleep claimed me, you were gone without notice or warning. Where should I look for you? In these barren hills where the spirits of the first nations roam, looking for their ancestral land? Where should I look for you? Wandering these verdant fields where a…

    Lou Faber