an old writer and his words

  • ABYSMAL

    At the edge of the abyss,teetering on the precipiceyou need not tell us notto jump, need not tell usthe horrid details thatwould befall us if we did,blood and gore ininfinitesimal detail. It is more than enoughthat you point out to usthe sheer height at whichwe stand, the craggedfloor of the canyonawaiting those whoimagine they can…

    Lou Faber

  • THEN

    A bicyclered Schwinnrust encirclingstem andheadset. Baseball cardsclippedto frameengagingturning spokesimagined motorspeeding downbuckling sidewalk. Skinned kneesbloody,wheel rimslightly bent,wishing suddenlyfor winter.

    Lou Faber

  • MISSING SONGS

    The problem, or one of them, isthe lack of music today. We haveall manner of what people call music,but not the music of the sortwe need, needed once and found,as we stormed the bastionsand bastards who mired us in war,who shunned darker brothersand sisters, who made alienablebasic rights to half of us withoutrhyme or reason,…

    Lou Faber

  • MOSES SAYS TO AARON

    We sat in the tentand you complained againof our condition, knowingwhat lies just out of reach.He speaks to me, not youand there is little you can doto hide your jealousy.I often wonder what mighthave happened if I had wipedthe blood of the lamb from your lintel.It was you who watchedthe calf take shape anddid nothing,…

    Lou Faber

  • A NAME

    Someone said that you must name somethingbefore you can really know it, and wehave gone about naming everything, evenas we know less and less about those things. We have grown so adept at naming things,that we have created multiple namesfor the things that we find the most problematic,for then they can be more easily ignored.…

    Lou Faber

  • HOLY ARMY

    1. A millennium agothe army of the lorddressed in mail and rodeproud steeds acrossbarren lands, swordsflashing in a red roasting sunwashed in the bloodof the infidels.They stopped for prayerblessing the bodiesleft along the dirt trackleft by their hooves,a common gravefor common facesdiffering only in the colorof skin and hair. 2. In this millenniumthe army of…

    Lou Faber

  • ON THE TENTH PLAGUE

    Mark your doorpost with the bloodof the lamb for this may be the nightwhen God’s emissary arrives for the killingof the first born. Will he be a night birdhalf raven, half vulture or an aged manconcealing his weapon in shabby robes. Mark your doorpost and check itoften for if your neighbor wipesthe blood away, you…

    Lou Faber

  • ERSE WHILE

    Growing up, I never imaginedthat I was Lithuanian, I mean Imight have as easily been from Mars. And it was only in my dreamsthat Gaelic was an ancestral tongue,not one my ancestors spoke,at least those who hadn’t yetmade the unthinkable moveto Norfolk and the frigid sea. Now I am all of those, and I knowthat…

    Lou Faber

  • DOG DAYS

    Growing up my family always had dogs,only one at a time, of course, since wewere a modern suburban family,which may be why we had a dog. It clearly wasn’t because they loved dogs,they tolerated them on good days,ignored them the rest of the timeand the good days were few if any. I never asked for…

    Lou Faber

  • SCREW YOU AESOP

    So Androcles, how did it feel when, in the pit, the lion sidled over. You saw his paw finally healed and no doubt remembered the thorn you had extracted. Did you rub his mane as his jaws snapped around your thigh his teeth tearing into your flesh. As you saw the blood spill out did…

    Lou Faber