an old writer and his words

  • WINTER TWO VIEWS

    The small dog frolics in the snow — now appearing from, now disappearing into clouds of flakes, while his master stands in the door cursing winter. As the temperature slides below zero, even the snow imagines itself a wave cresting onto a South Florida beach.

    Lou Faber

  • ROYA’S MOUNTAINS AND RIVERS

    If I ask you to look out the window and tell me what is there, what will you say? If you say there are trees and a house in the distance, I will tell you to tell me what is there, not what you mind creates. If you again tell me there are trees and…

    Lou Faber

  • SEA-ING

    He believes he would like the ocean, imagines standing on the shore watching as the waves wash up to his feet, and as quickly retreat, smoothing the sand. He has never seen the ocean, only ponds and on large lake, but he imagines the ocean is just a giant lake with bigger waves. He would…

    Lou Faber

  • WHERE?

      Take the pencil in hand and grasp it firmly and flex and extend your wrist until loose. On a clean sheet of paper mark a small X which will become of great importance shortly. Look around you in all directions, starting as close to yourself as possible and expanding out as far as the…

    Lou Faber

  • THICKNESS OF DAY

    The clouds are thick today, each merging into the next like an ill-woven blanket, stitches dropped, but still not admitting light. None assumes familiar shapes, none require more than a passing glance, though none promise much-needed rain. Today clouds simply cast a pall and we are left to bear their omnipresent reluctance to be of…

    Lou Faber

  • NIGHTHOUGHTS

    like a house of cards it folds slowly inward, falling on itself, sliding downward until all that is left is the memory of what was supposed to be and a dream standing in isolation

    Lou Faber

  • SLOW TIME

    Time slows inexorably with the approach of sleep, the other world prepared for arrival as the awakened world falls away into ashes. Some say it is all dreams, but they have their own reality until they, too, retreat in the face of the great rising Bird that precedes the morning sun.

    Lou Faber

  • EVOLUTION

      We arose from water, crawled forth and inhabited the land and claimed dominion and the land appeared to cede itself to us, knowing better and caring even less. We return to the water feel its pull but immerse ourselves only partially, willing to risk only half drowning, the land and air usually silent, knowingly…

    Lou Faber

  • MORROW’S WISH

    Each night I stare up at the sky, scanning for the one star that is there solely to answer whatever entreaties I choose to make. It is said that we each have a lucky star, but perhaps, given the ever-expanding population of the world, mine is just too dim to see from the city in…

    Lou Faber

  • DOG’S BEST FRIEND

    The dog wandered up to me. Dogs often did that. This time he dragged his person along, none too pleased at the extension of what the person hoped was a short walk. Both dog and person smiled, the dog meaning it, the person likely out of habit. The dog confirmed the person was impatient. The…

    Lou Faber