an old writer and his words

  • NIGHT

    The night slowly encases the citythe river flows on toward the lakebirds shiver in the biting chill,the street light flickers and goes out,the wind whistles around the windows,snow begins to coat the trees’ bare branches,a squirrel looks up forlornly,the traffic light inexorably changes colors,TV’s flicker behind curtained windows,we slide beneath the blankets,sleep comes slowly to…

    Lou Faber

  • THE ROCKPILE

    I was still a child, or mostly so,when he took me to the gamenot because he liked football butbecause that was what fatherswere supposed to do, he had been told.It was freezing that day in the stadiumthey called the Rockpile althoughthere were no rocks, just a fewchunks of its concrete shellthat had fallen off the…

    Lou Faber

  • HARLECH CASTLE

    I stood on the rampartsthat cold, wet morninglooking out over the waitingIrish Sea, this day offeringonly rain and a November chill. Write haiku, she said to usand I thought of Bashoand Issu who never stoodon a 13th Century Welshfortress and never imaginedwriting about Llywelyngreat or not nearly so. In the rain and chillI scribbled furiously,retreated…

    Lou Faber

  • CURFEW

    We sat in the cramped kitchenhuddled around the stovethe open oven door spreadinga faint warmth that barelyslid through the winter chill.The bare bulb in the ceilingstrained and flickeredfighting to hold as the generatorswere shut down, and darknessenveloped our small world.The sky was lit by the flaresand the odor of exploding shellsseeped through the towelsealed windows…

    Lou Faber

  • WINTER?

    In the early morning, beforeI open the blinds, beforethe sun approaches rising,I imagine the chill envelopingeverything outside, Octoberslipping quickly towardNovember, to the possibilityof rolling snake eyes, to snow. Winter always came that way,unannounced, and at leastby me, unwelcomed, thelast of the crimson, flameorange and ochre leavesdragged to the earthand buried ignominiously. But I know when…

    Lou Faber

  • DINNER PARTY

    Technology has effectivelydestroyed the intimatedinner parties that oncewere the core of a social life. You fretted over whetherthe souffle would collapse,if the wine was chilledto the right temperature,if the entree was back timedsufficiently to allow timefor the hors d’oeuvresand if the guests wouldarrive at the scheduled time. Now it is a fear that Grubhubor Doordash…

    Lou Faber

  • OF DREAMS

    I am now of an agewhere I can no longer rememberwhat terrors gripped my sonsin their dreams, causing themto appear beneath our blankets,I relegated to the bed’s edge. Perhaps there were noneand I was destined to bean edge sleeper, the boystaking advantage as a jokeplayed out night after night. I know what dreams nowcan rip…

    Lou Faber

  • A BUFFALO PASSES 無門關 三十八

    Staring out, watch the bullwalk slowly pastalong the old road.Marvel at his horns,the flare of his nostrilsin his massive head,his breath hangingin the early morning chill. Mark each leg, itsmuscles rippling, as it passes.You feel you know the beastbut only if you close your eyescan you grasp its tail. A reflection on Case 38 of…

    Lou Faber

  • SNOW

    At first it was just oddto think of snow as merelya concept, a memory softer,more pleasant than its reality. You can grow accustomedto concepts, they are generallysomewhat neat and tidy, easilyfiled and brought forth on demand. The concept of snow hasits great advantages, snowmenof perfect shape, never meltingand no one must shovel a concept. But…

    Lou Faber

  • ARIZONA IS A STATE OF MIND

    Looking out the window, Iam reasonably certain this isnot Arizona and it is not justthe palm trees that suggest it. Well, in part it is the palm trees,although they have some there,but here it is the variety of palmsand the limited number of lizards. We have the occasional gecko,and the iguanas have begunto arrive, though…

    Lou Faber