an old writer and his words

  • A PEELING

    Why do we persistin peeling the onionas if expecting wewill find anythingother than onion below?We cling to false hopeknowing in the endthere will be nothingdespite our efforts.We are the oneswho curse the coreof the apple asspace taken wherefruit should benever imaginingthere could be nofruit if nature choseto grant our wish.

    Lou Faber

  • STILL MOURNING

    I think about you often, lying besidemy grandparents on the hillsideoverlooking the Kanawha River,bathed in the utter silencethat only the dead can clearly hear.I think of you more often than shewho replaced you, she who laterreplaced me with her own, Ian adjacency, still useful butno longer fully or truly valued.I think of you lovingly, knowingfor…

    Lou Faber

  • CH-CH-CH-CHANGES

    Walking back through my lifeI can now begin to see when and wherethings changed, where I changed, wherethe place I thought of as my homebecame alien, altered, as thoughthe weathering of time wore awaywhat I now know were carefully appliedveneers, real enough seeming to meand to others who stopped to visit.And when the music changed…

    Lou Faber

  • RADIOACTIVE

    I cannot say for certain which dayI became the familial isotope,but I know my parents beganaccreting neutrons not longafter their marriage, boundto their mutual core, unboundfrom me, adopted into the family,and I then became the isotopeof the family but remote,easily enough forgotten,when I was not present.That is, I suppose, one possiblefate for an isotope, it’s…

    Lou Faber

  • AT FIRST

    The first timeI heard itI knewthat voicecame from a placeI had never visited,would neverbe able to go. It penetrated mereverberatedwithin mea harmonicthat shookme to my core. She reachedand graspedwhat I thoughtI had kept hidden,and as I dancedwith mynew bride,I knew Ettahad led meto loveAt Last.

    Lou Faber

  • SURGERY

    Preparing it to undergothe knife, its core excised,stem cast aside, slicedthen cut into piecesI pause to consider thatthis pear was oncea blossom, a delicatewhite flower, its cranberryred anthes soon to turnblack, picked carefully,cradled into a bushel,by a knowing hand,washed, and gentlypacked for shipment.For me it was justplucking it from the binat the market, holdingit in…

    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