an old writer and his words

  • HOPE, YET

    There is a certain pleasurein reading obscure biographiesof the decidedly lesser lightsof their respective fields.Inevitably a writer assiduouslystruggles to avoid mentionof the great men and womenwho define the discipline,and the books are shorter,for even if their lives were visitedby great trials, and even ifthey overcame obstacles,we all know they ascendedonly so far, and we,at the…

    Lou Faber

  • INCARNATION

    I had been sitting for an hourin the coffee shop areaof the now gone Borders bookstoretrying to piece together the shardsof a life shattered by the impendingend of a long marriage that wasgoing to last for a lifetime.And I was hoping, perhaps,to meet someone, ready or not,to try and fill the smallest cornerof what was…

    Lou Faber

  • GALWAY HIGH STREET

    She must be what, in her thirties nowbut in my mind she will alwaysbe nineteen, maybe twenty, shewill always be standing outsidethe boarded over windows of a storefronton High Street, most likely a mauvenubby skirt reaching just over the topof what might be Doc Martens, blackcardigan over a black turtleneckher fiddle tucked under her chin,the…

    Lou Faber

  • A PASSION

    I don’t know just whatmoment it was when wantingbecame desire, wishingblazed into passion butfor nothing in particular,so if I found it I mightwell not know what I had.None of this was lovemuch was likely delusion,but passion consumes logicand returns only ashes.I am older now, passionhas grown softer aroundit’s edges, but it remainsconsuming like a fine…

    Lou Faber

  • THRIFT STORE

    It was small and a bit cramped,down thankfully solid stairsin the basement of the church.Thrift stores, charitable ones,tend to inhabit basements as ifthe red dress, clearly worn butwith tangoes left in herwasn’t ready for the light of day.And on a nearby rack isthe Army jacket, still neatly pressedit’s buttons shiny saying Inever saw battle, the…

    Lou Faber

  • FIRST LOVE

    The morning that I first loved youwas not the morning of the daythat I first told you that I loved you,fear needed a space to bridgeand an ocean served it well.It was not following the dayI first met you, saw you smile,heard you laugh, or perhapsit was and I didn’t notice.It was not the day…

    Lou Faber

  • DEPARTURE

    She is leaving too soon.We know she is leaving,we know there is nothingthat can be done to changeher departure, only the timeremains uncertain, but nowit is clear it will be soon. It is not right or fair, we know,but that has little to do withwhen one must depart,time and fate are ficklein that way, and…

    Lou Faber

  • IN THE CITY OF DREAMS

    my demonssink into the abyssof memoryand drownin the hollowbetween her breasts,she touches my armand presses backwe are Siamese fetusesfloating untetheredin the sea of night,I can smell the sweet soapand taste the sweatbeading on hershoulder blades,I brush my fingersacross her thighand cling to sleep. First published in Discretionary Love, June 2023https://www.discretionarylove.com/in-the-city-of-dreams-louis-faber/

    Lou Faber

  • A BRAVE NEW WORLD

    It is now easy to imagine a worldwhere dystopia lies in waitingaround every corner, always outof sight, always ready to pounce.Now imagine a world, this worldif in 1492 it was a woman whodiscovered this land, and womenwho made all of the decisions.Men could still go to war, but onlyif women decided the war was warranted.It…

    Lou Faber

  • THEY SAID

    She said, “If youhave something to sayjust say it.”He said, “I already did,I said it all.”She said, “Saysomething else, then.”He said, “I havenothing else to say,it has allbeen said already.”She said, “Thatis the problemwith you,you never wantto talk aboutthings I want.”He said, “I do haveone more thingI must say to you –Goodbye.”

    Lou Faber