an old writer and his words

  • FAMILY

    Of the few remaining cousins, nowas old as I, a number we do not mentionor want to believe that he was her onlylover, as though she was the young girlwho left Charleston for Washington, D.C.They cite, as justifying empirical evidence,that she never married, alwaysthe beloved aunt, nothing more allowed.My later discovered existencelaid waste to their…

    Lou Faber

  • THUMB

    She asks me howI can be so goodat growing plantswhen she hasno luck at all with them. I pause, as if thinking,try and hide the inwardsmile, and respondI just put themin the ground.I don’t tell herthat I also hopethat the rains will comeoften enoughto keep them alive. And I certainlydo not tell her thatwhen they…

    Lou Faber

  • THE SON SETS

    My adoptive mother said:I chose you from all the others.My adoptive mother meant:when the wheel of fortunestop spinning the arrowpointed you and that was that. My “brother,” biological sonof my adoptive parents said:we have always thought of youjust like a brother.My “brother” meant:we were stuck with youthough you weren’t even half to us. When my…

    Lou Faber

  • WIDOWER

    In the cold nightof another winterhe stares outacross the barren fieldswhich have long forgottenthe taste of the sun.He watches carefullyfor a signbut the naked branchdenies the breeze.He remembershow it once wasin the heatof the dying firethe sweetness of her lipslingering on his tongue.She is gone, has beenso long, her faceis hiddenby the gauzy veilof time.He…

    Lou Faber

  • OUT OF HIDING

    The hidden joy of youth, and itsinevitable disappointment, isin finding that special person.Each time it is the birth of true love,eventually, save in rare circumstances,it is the death of an illusionand the aching pain accompanying the loss. The certainty of youthful emotionis a bondage that is most often inescapable,and there is no desire to leave…

    Lou Faber

  • UNUSUAL

    I recall it wasn’t as cold as usualthat early November evening, Iwas standing nervously on the small deckin front of the Indian restaurant.This was going to be my fourthfirst date of my lifetime, notsurprising in the abstract, unlessyou realize that put me on an averageof one every twelve years.Fast forward almost three yearsand I am…

    Lou Faber

  • MESA

    This nightin cold moonlightearth rises upclouds float downghosts walk the margin.Old ones singnow shall be thenolder ones still singthen shall be onceto wolf and coyote.In this season of north windssun’s heat barrenspirits rise updreams descendman lies interspersed.Women singwe are bearersmen singwe are sowers. First appeared in Dipity, Vol. 3, April 2023

    Lou Faber

  • COMMON UNDERSTANDING

    It didn’t surprise him that hequickly understood the catthey adopted during the pandemicfor all he had to do was applybasic feline logic, that everythingin her new home was eitherhers or theirs collectively,it was just that simple.He had come from a place,a life, where there had beenhers and theirs, simple.When that life ended, as everyonebut him…

    Lou Faber

  • JUST LIKE THAT

    “And just like that,” he said. “Just like that,” she replied. “Are you certain, I wouldn’t want to go off half cocked?” he asked. “I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t almost certain, would I,” was her retort. “But almost certain isn’t absolutely certain,” he noted. “As you well know, nothing is absolutely certain…

    Lou Faber

  • THE WEIGHT OF MOURNING

    The weight of mourning defies precise measurement,and all of the rules of mathematics fail in an attempt.Grief rejects being placed on scales, there is nevera moment of pure equilibrium, only a teeteringthat always threatens to bring it all down in a heap.A million who are nameless and faceless is an agonyand yet eighty thousand with…

    Lou Faber