an old writer and his words

  • COLOURS

    We hunted him as a stagacross his fields, trophywe called him red man,color of Ares, godssacrificed on our altar,his rivers run with his spirit.I am whitebereft of color,barren, a glarea desert stripped of life.It is I who wearCain’s mark, pluckedfrom the gardenthe sweet taste fadesmy lips are dry.You are blackan amalgam, greenof the grasses in…

    Lou Faber

  • HISTORY

    Deep in the valley of memoryon the altar of Areswe sacrifice them, always youngeach generation we areAbraham unrestrained,the pardon always moments late.We are Olmecs, relying noton the sun’s passagebut on a mainspring tightly wound.Our gods hunger and mustbe sated lest we lose favorand their image change. In our boneyardpriests and victimsslowly decomposefade into earthwashed deepby…

    Lou Faber