an old writer and his words

  • ALL BAD REASONS

    She says I should watch the game,the team I have followed sincewell since before I can rememberwhen. I am puzzled by which of myexcuses I should use to explainwhy I will not watch this game orany. I could tell her that I am a jinx andmy watching will cause them to losealthough I do frequently…

    Lou Faber

  • HAUNTING

    The ghosts of my birth parentsblow into my dreams asso many white sheets tornfrom the clotheslineby gale winds, fly over me,at once angels and vulturescarrying off memoriescreated from the clayof surmise and wishful thinking. I invite their visits, frailbranches to which to clingin the storms of growing age,beginnings tenuous anchorsto hold against time, knowingthe battle…

    Lou Faber

  • ON THE SHELF

    He found the cup by the curb one morning walking to the bus. He rarely notice things on his walk, thinking always about the day ahead. But this day he saw it, picked it up and put it in his messenger bag intending to clean it later, when he got home after work. He had…

    Lou Faber

  • THE FROG

    I can still smell the formaldahyde,see the frog pithed to the boardas I went about dissecting it,taking copious notes on whatI found, identifying organs,both of us hidden in a cornerof our fourth grade classroomso the other students didn’tfeel like they had to vomit. This Yom Kippur, even thoughI no longer practice the faithof my youth…

    Lou Faber

  • WHEN

    We are told that we cannotlive in the past, that would bea senseless waste of the present. But we cannot live withoutthe past for then there would beno true present in which to live. So we are left to hover betweenthe past and its absence,knowing the present will soon be the past, there or gone,caught…

    Lou Faber

  • ARIA

    After years of embarrassmentI have finally come into the light.It isn’t that my writing has improved,although I surmise that wouldbe a narrow space to fill,or that I can now draw thingsthat were once stick peopleand animals and things. What has improved, andimproved significantlyis my singing voice, oncea three note range, and onenot known to music,but…

    Lou Faber

  • CHEMICAL REACTION

    Korean and Basque are orphan languagesalthough linguists prefer the termlanguage isolates, which soundsalmost chemical, as though somereaction resulted in a linguisticsediment, or distillate perhaps. If that is the proper term Isuppose I was a human isolate,which actually makes some sense,even after adoption, for I wouldlearn years later from mystep brother that I wasisolated from the…

    Lou Faber

  • TO PROTECT THE INNOCENT

    I am there, a classroom,elementary or middle school,Charleston, West Virginia1930’s, girls in proper skirts,saddle shoes, the old womanat the front of the room,first day of a new year. “Jones”, a hand goes up,“Murphy”, another rises slowly,“Padlibsky, what kindof name is that, Jew, orsome kind or Ruskie maybe?”A small voice answersLithuanian, ma’am. A scene that neverhappened,…

    Lou Faber

  • DAYS LIKE THIS

    Then there are the dayswhen I play the buffoon,the juggler whose ballscome crashing to the floorbringing tears to the crowdof joy or sorrow, I cannothope to tell, for this dayI can only flail about,the circus clown, and youhad best keep your distancelest I break you as well.

    Lou Faber

  • STAGED

    At the moment of your birthmy son, I grew suddenly older,mortality became a realitythat I could no longer avoid. You could not imagine this,and I doubt others could seebut I knew and the infinitecollapsed inside the event horizon. Your brother came later, butthat death was incremental,a single cut among thousands,a step on a path you…

    Lou Faber