an old writer and his words

  • CLINGING

    The small snail clings to the wallof the hotel room balcony, deafto the roar of the surf only yards away.He knows where he is going, knowshis purpose for being here.He moves at a pace youwould expect of a snail,and by the time we leavein two days he will haveprogressed, but it willbe impossible for us…

    Lou Faber

  • LIONEL HAMPTON AND THE GOLDEN MEN OF JAZZ

    Blue Note, pardonour constructionblack paintedplasterboarda hangingair conditioning duct. Grady Tatesneering at the skinsgrowling at a high hathands shiftingdeftly reaching inpicking a beatand sliding itover the crowd. Jimmy Woodeblind to the lightsslides his fingersover stringsand talks to the bassresting on his shoulder.It sings backbegging , pleadingdemanding as his headsways with an inner vision. Junior Mancesways slowly…

    Lou Faber