an old writer and his words

  • FINAL MOMENT

    You would think that thosewith an abiding faith in an afterlifewould approach the transitionto death without fear, merely a stepinto a promising, promised unknown.And perhaps some do take this approachbut many, it seems, when the abyss opensbefore them and there is no going backexpress the moment of fear, of terror,thoughts reserved to the nonbelievers.Of course…

    Lou Faber

  • THINGS I SHOULD HAVE TOLD MY SONS

    1.You can lead a horse to waterbut if he is agoraphobicyou will be walking home 2.You can runbut doing so on icewill lead to useless bruisingand broken bones 3.a bird in the handwill not be terribly happyand could shitall over your new shoes 4.All good things comeand most go,but bad things lingerif you allow it…

    Lou Faber

  • FIRST LOVE

    The morning that I first loved youwas not the morning of the daythat I first told you that I loved you,fear needed a space to bridgeand an ocean served it well.It was not following the dayI first met you, saw you smile,heard you laugh, or perhapsit was and I didn’t notice.It was not the day…

    Lou Faber

  • TICK, TICK

    Ignore what the physicists tell you,for truth defies their neat lawsand time accelerates as you age.Stop and consider that the timeyou have left, however much it is,will, per unit of their measure,grow increasingly shorteruntil, of course, you have none leftand then it will cease to matter.So it is best to get on with living.Put aside…

    Lou Faber

  • A FAREWELL VISIT

    My mother no longer visits mein my dreams, actuallyneither does for I’ve had two,the advantage or is itdisadvantage of the adoptee.None of my three fathersever paid a postmortem visit.It complicates things when allI know of my birth mother isfrom a college yearbook photo,but that is how she looked in thosefew visits after I discovered her.The…

    Lou Faber

  • A SIMPLE PROCEDURE

    The needle slips into the armjust above the wrist, it isa bringer of pain, a bringerof relief from pain, it is coldunder the now tepid blanket.The nurse, ever cheerful, saysit is time now, raises the bed railand the anesthetist presses gentlyon the plunger of the hypodermicand the drugs ooze slowly intothe patiently waiting vein.As they…

    Lou Faber

  • TO A FATHER, NEVER KNOWN

    You were to be my prophetand you played Jonah one morningby clutching your chest at the sinkand dropping to the floor, dead.You left me to wanderthrough Ninevah, a beggartwice robbed of originground pulled from beneath my feet.Why did you flee your taskthe one for which you were anointed.Couldn’t you see our home laid ruinconsumed by…

    Lou Faber

  • FINITO

    He always wondered how the story would end. He was tempted to read the last page of every novel he picked up but he realized that he would have a shelf full of books in no time at all, because once he knew the ending he wouldn’t, couldn’t bother to read the rest. He became…

    Lou Faber

  • ON THE CUSHION

    The day has slipped away,or mostly so, as they often doas if nature provided a hiddengrease that lets them outof our grasp no matterhow hard we try and hold them.It is little consolation, laterin life, that nights demonstrateand equal unwillingnessto remain very long, as ifour dreams must be hurriedas are our days and nights.Sitting on…

    Lou Faber

  • A THOUSAND

    There is a far less obviousbut very important reasonto be a poet, a bit less so, but stilla good reason to write prose.Perhaps you will say that myreason is wholly and solelyaudience specific, and youwould be at least partially right,for if, like me, you are inthe process of losing your sight,or have already done so,…

    Lou Faber