an old writer and his words

  • SENSO-JI

    By hour six, the plane was just a lumbering beast dividing the sky, halfway from God knows where to nowhere special. His body cried for sleep but he knew he had to deny it. That much he had learned from prior trips. For when he landed, made his way painfully slowly into the city, it…

    Lou Faber

  • IN MY BAG

    I carry my pastin a monk’s bagthat rests on my shoulder. In it you will findmy history, or bitsof it, names I havebeen given, given up,memories of childhood,pictures of my parentswho I never knew,aged in my mind fromthe photos in yearbooks,all that I have of them.. I still have roomin my bag, perhapsmore room than…

    Lou Faber

  • TOODLE-OO

    So, Bly, you have finallygone and joined the parade,holding out the longest as thoughthat was a badge you couldsomehow carry out with you. Take consolation that youbested Ginsberg and Corsoand even outlasted Ferlinghetti,though he was giving youa run for your money. And Plath, well shewas the first, far too youngeveryone said, but now Iam left…

    Lou Faber

  • R.I.P.

    We are planning the funeralfor Roe today, eulogiesfully ready, for we are certainthe death was slow and painfuland now all we can do is mourn. Some we know will not attend,Brown out of fear, knowingthe eventual consequencesof this loss, Miranda becausehe is already marked, houndedby those in power, an easy mark. Sullivan may be there,…

    Lou Faber

  • IF ONLY

    If there were truly justiceat least of the poetic sortperhaps Van Gogh couldhave been born 75 yearsearlier, and in Viennanot Holland, so that whenhe decided to be ridof an ear he could haveoffered it to Beethovenneither of his workingin his later years. Andif a poet could arrangetime travel using his licensethen he could just as…

    Lou Faber

  • LAMBERT FIELD

    The gravestones, in random shapes line the hill the morning chillcreeps between them and onto the runway until washed awayby the spring sun slowly pushing upwardas the jet noise washes the hill unheard He passed away quietly in his bed ending his dreadof the cancer slowly engulfing him his vision dimmedby the morphine that pulsed…

    Lou Faber

  • THE RITE

    It is coming, a littleover a week now and itwill arrive, always too soon,never ready despite knowingits precise arrival day and time. We will be ready, butonly after a scramble, for thatis how it must be, howit has always been. And again this year wewill be thankful, as all claimon this day, but why do…

    Lou Faber

  • SAY CHEESE

    The meeting drags on. Time is frozen. The space between a smile and a grimace is the edge of a fine blade and the width of a canyon. And you maintain the smile hoping it is not seen as the rictus you feel. Politeness requires a smile, your heart requires a fast escape. So you…

    Lou Faber

  • COMING BACK

    He appears, rising from the horizonthe sun at his back, as if a miragetaking physical shape and form. He approaches slowly, your eyesstraining to separate himfrom the sun’s growing glow. You wonder if his is a holy manrobed and with a staff, walkingto announce his long awaited return. As he grows closer, you realizehe is…

    Lou Faber

  • ADMISSION

    We do not like to admitthat nature laughs at usas we pretend to bend herto our will and desires. We dam and reroute rivers,but the river knows wellthat it will return, flowwhere it wishes, for itwill be here long afterwe have returned to the soil. Still, now and again naturegrows weary with our meddlingand unleashes…

    Lou Faber