an old writer and his words

  • LUNA SEE

    It is her time and she knows she is ready for this moment, has been for eons, knows it will come again but none here will remember this day. She stares at them, but they ignore her, and she grows angry, her visage reddens as she slowly retreats, know the interloper will move along, hoping…

    Lou Faber

  • MORNING AT THE SHORE

    Along the shore, this morning, the clouds piled up, refusing entry to the promised sun, which hung back forlorn. The waves charged onto the sand like so many two year olds in full tantrum, banging against all in sight and retreating, only to charge again, pushing away any and all in their path. The wind…

    Lou Faber

  • NAME THAT CLOUD

    The weather, he announced to no one in particular, ought to be musical or at least incorporate some jazz. Spring is bebop, Trane and Parker, the sudden clash of Blakey the downpours of Dizzy and the hint of what’s to come on the fingers of Monk, and Kenny and Milt. Summer brings the slow easing…

    Lou Faber

  • ONE EVE, NO ADAM

    They arrive ones and twos accrete dissolve reform, swell the cacophony grows takes on a joyousness as they ebb and flow; the food disappears the wine the laughter draws you in and you want only to circulate but how with shifting nuclei and then the scheduled end and hours later the last slips away and…

    Lou Faber

  • RIVER CROSSING

    We crossed the Hudson this afternoon on a Dutch named bridge in a driving rain so strong you could hear little over the beat of the wipers throwing sheets of water. You wondered why the superstructure was only on the Eastern end. I wondered why they had to have a Dutch name no one can…

    Lou Faber

  • FULL OF IT

    He is worried, he says that we will be leaving on a full moon. I remind him that he leaves in two weeks, that this morning’s half-moon will be gone then replaced by its now absent other half. He says it should be full if it’s half now and half a month passes. His statements…

    Lou Faber

  • MEMORY OF THE VINE

    The conversation flows freely, piles up on the table, amid dishes from a meal now fully consumed, as the last of the wine reluctantly cedes its grip on the bottle and settles into the glasses. In Abruzzi, the vintner imagined this, staring at the grapes pulled lovingly from the now ancient vines. As night draws…

    Lou Faber

  • SEASCAPE

    The shadow of the balloon passes slowly along the water’s edge and onto the beach, its gondola touches the dune as the disk of the sun drowns in the sea. First appeared in Beachfire Gathering, 1999

    Lou Faber

  • CHANGE

    They lie in the field uprooted slowly desicating in the harsh sun, the fruit they might have borne trapped in the dying flower, the seed of another generation denied. It was not supposed to be like this, the sun should have fed them, the soil nourished their souls, their stalks growing thicker, drawing ever more…

    Lou Faber

  • ONCE

    It was the other evening, the first of two this month, they say This only happens once in a blue moon or a couple times every two or three years and often twice in the same year, So once in a blue moon isn’t that long but she said she could feel its pull, everything…

    Lou Faber