an old writer and his words

  • DAWN, AUGUST

    They cut neat incisions across the slate blue sky. The wounds they leave slowly peel back the white edges slowly spreading until the sky hemorrhages its cloud-like streaks. The oak drops yet another acorn and the squirrel scampers to gather it in before the sky flees under its gray-white blanket.

    Lou Faber

  • AN OVERHEARD CONVERSATION

    “It will never be what you think it should, and not what you wish it to be, unless by pure happenstance, so just relax and allow things to happen as they will.” “I know I can change the outcome, have it conform more to my will with enough effort, if others like you don’t get…

    Lou Faber

  • TRANSFORMATION

    There was a time, once, when the most everything was metaphorical. That was before the great metamorphosis when everything was suddenly malleable. No one was quite certain just what happened. Most thought it was in the dead of night when they, and most everyone else was firmly in the grip of Morpheus, who was, all…

    Lou Faber