an old writer and his words

  • SUZY

    What do you sayon the loss of a child?We sat in the loungedrinking a vile potionfrom a hollowed pineapple,giggling insanelyfor no reason.We wandered the tunnelsfaces painted,clowns in bedlam.We lay togetheron a mattresson the floor and listenedto Aqualungmy arms around youboth, but sleepcame slowly and we talkeduntil night ran fromthe encroaching sun. I can feel her…

    Lou Faber

  • NOT THAT PICTURE

    Whoever first penned the adagethat picture is worth a thousand wordsand the multitude who haverepeated it ad nauseam in many languagesclearly never attended the partiesI once attended where, when the foodwas consumed, the guests adjournedto a den or living room wheresomeone wanted to form teams“for a spirited game of charades.”Then one poor, lost soul wouldstand…

    Lou Faber

  • DAYS LIKE THIS

    Then there are the dayswhen I play the buffoon,the juggler whose ballscome crashing to the floorbringing tears to the crowdof joy or sorrow, I cannothope to tell, for this dayI can only flail about,the circus clown, and youhad best keep your distancelest I break you as well.

    Lou Faber