an old writer and his words

  • NO BOIL

    Not so much watchedas casually gazed at, andnot a pot but a smartphone,which had best not boil. No ring, not this daylost in what, an absentmind, thoughts of self,not unexpected but wanted. Distance real becomesdistance virtual, emptylater explained, wordsof apology, forgiveness but a lingering scar thatwill recede, reappearthat laughter may coverbut never fully erase.

    Lou Faber

  • FACING

    The face in the mirrorwas surprisingly older today,and I can’t imagine that Iwill ever look that old,at least not for quite some time. I wanted to ask him howhe had aged so badly, but knewthat it would be bad mannersto comment on his appearance,so I smiled and he in returm. I suppose one day I…

    Lou Faber

  • BENT ARROW

    He would never understand how time developed a flexibility that defied the laws of physics. An hour, a minute, a second, they were all standard measures. Each the same as every other. Yet lately they had changed, flexed. For the most part they had gotten shorter, shrunken. He knew that wasn’t possible until he remembered…

    Lou Faber

  • MUSINGS

    The poet muses: I wonderif a cat purrs when no oneis in the same room.I suppose we could put ina microphone and find out.Schrodinger comments:if there is no microphonethe cat is purring andthe cat is not purring,and what is the half-life of a poem. First Published in the 2005 Scars Publications Poetry Wall Calendar

    Lou Faber

  • LIFE, ABBREVIATION

    Arrival noted, 11:30 P.M.delivery normal, babyprepared for agency, motherreleased in two days, babyto foster care, thento adoptive parents. No memories, save one,a fall, bathroom, headbleeding, black and whitefloor tile, radiator harderthan child’s skull. Now 70, the same person,a lying mirror each day,a small cemetery, WestVirginia, a headstonea mother finally,a life of mourning.

    Lou Faber

  • SOONER OR LATER

    He is cornered and knows itso he responds as honestlyas he knows how withoutturning away his questioner. “You have a basic choice, “he says, “most likely,and that is do you want itto look like this now, or do you want it to looklike this in say thirty years.If you want it looking likethis in thirty…

    Lou Faber

  • A SIMPLE TASK

    You misunderstand me, he said,I did not ask you to write a poemabout a flower, anyone can do that,I asked you to write a poem with a flower. Do not ask me what the poemwill be about, ask the flower, butfirst you must learn to speakthe language of the flowers. If you find this difficult,…

    Lou Faber

  • WORDS, WORDS, WORDS

    My mother surrouned mewith books, “read, read”she would endlessly say. And if I had a question,“Look it up, it’s why webought the encyclopedia.” I became a voracious reader,skilled at finding answers,never stopping to think. Now, years later, I knowwhy I had to read, whyI had to look things up. What she never said, butwhat she…

    Lou Faber

  • ASKING

    Asking saints to intercedeis something quite new to me,having never considered that saintswere people whom I might seek out. I’ve started carefully, onlyseeking saints who hangon my family tree, Margaret,Itta, Begga, Adela, Arnulf, and I’ve vowed to ask nothingfor myself, for karma willsee to me one way or another,so I ask only for those in…

    Lou Faber

  • TRAVELER

    Today I am goingnowhere at alland that isthe journeyI need to take. Later I will gonowhere,a shorter journey,ending up here. It will bea different herethan the oneI left, butboth hereare perfectin their respectivenows.

    Lou Faber