an old writer and his words

  • WHAT ONCE WAS

    It will never again be the same,the world we knew has grownashen, washed of color, our visionmonochromatic, our ears deaf.We have engineered this in our blindness,unable to see the corrosion wehave loosed, we are Pandora, welet free the lid of the box, our greedmet by the ghosts of those wehave condemned, those yetto be born,…

    Lou Faber

  • MORNING

    The clocks have begrudginglyshifted again, the earlymorning lost in darknessbarely illuminated by a waning moon.The fronds of the Royal Palm’swhisper “we are here, waitfor us.” But they are mere shadowsbegging for dawn’s arrival.Finally the sun engulfs the starswatching over the horizon,the fronds say “look at me,I will give you an infinitepalette of green that will…

    Lou Faber

  • NEXT TIME

    He is certain that in his next life he does not want to be a dog. Having to go outside in all sorts of weather for basic bodily functions is not for him. And he has never been fond of leashe,s on either of their ends. He is not sure, given where the courts have…

    Lou Faber

  • BACKROADS

    When you drive on back roadsyou develop a differentsense of direction, of place.You know you’re in the Southby the trees, Spanish mosshanging like heavy rainand stealing the leavesof smaller trees, andall manner of thingshanging from or affixedbetween trees, a tire swing,something passing for a hammockand endless clotheslinesannouncing that herethe seasons are measuredby rainfall and temperaturesthat…

    Lou Faber

  • EXTINCTION

    The days are shorteningas they should, going forwardon their slow march from equilibrium.The birds arrive and leaveas they should, caring nothingfor clocks or calendars, merelyreading the sky and weather.They know their worldis changing, hotter daysand nights and the stormsthey must outfly growingever stronger, more dangerous.They know that we are the cause,our greed, our arrogance,and they…

    Lou Faber

  • A RUNG TOO HIGH

    He is fully stuck on the hornsof a dilemma from which hecan see no way to extricate himself.He needs to get up on the roofand patch the hole beforethe storm shortly arrives full force.The old wooden ladder that hasbeen lying along the sideof the house is far too heavy for himto maneuver into position and…

    Lou Faber

  • A TIME ONCE

    There was a time when wewould go to the desert or shore.Now the desert comes to usand we know the oceanwill arrive not far behind it.We learned to shape our world,mold it to our desires, perceived wants.The world has grown weary of ustinkerers never satisfied, moreour watchword, enough forgotten.Now it demands that weacceed t o…

    Lou Faber

  • STORM

    We walked slowly alongfeet sinking in the sandafter waves swallowed the sun.We could smell its approachbefore the first winds sweptashore pushing sands againstbeach chairs turned for night.Two dogs ran over dunesknowing what would come,drawn by clatter of hammersplacing plywood shuttersover windows and doors.Clouds, an ebony pall, gatheredmocking, waiting for a momentwhen the lid would be…

    Lou Faber

  • PAUSING

    As the rivers dry upand lakes become pondswe are finding things wenever thought we would see.An old warship in Europe,dinosaur footprints, carsand, sadly, the bones of some.We stop momentarily to marvelat these discoveries, thenwithdraw to our homes where wehope we can escape the heat,our air conditioners working overtime,the power plants strained.Yet we never stop to…

    Lou Faber

  • SEASONS

    Here we measure seasonsby small changes in temperatureand for one, heavy rainfall. We are the calendar reliant,otherwise left to look at the moonand count to ascertain roughly what month it might be, butwe now live in a solar calendarworld so our lunar effortsare necessarily doomed to failure. And holidays are different here,Christmas has no snow,so…

    Lou Faber