an old writer and his words

  • CONVERSING

    What we will never understandis that a wolf howling at the moonis engaged in a conversation, the silencewe hear is the moon’s answer to the wolf.We never stop to fully listen,for in silence much is said by naturethat our self-imposed deafnessto all but our kind forces us to ignore.In silent dreams entire worlds open upand…

    Lou Faber

  • MESA

    This nightin cold moonlightearth rises upclouds float downghosts walk the margin.Old ones singnow shall be thenolder ones still singthen shall be onceto wolf and coyote.In this season of north windssun’s heat barrenspirits rise updreams descendman lies interspersed.Women singwe are bearersmen singwe are sowers. First appeared in Dipity, Vol. 3, April 2023

    Lou Faber

  • MOON WATCH

    I’m guessing it wasabout 2 AM, I can’t be suresince the only clockin the bedroom was analogand unlighted, visible only by day. I don’t know what woke me,it just seems to happen, but the moonwas peering in between the slatsof closed window blinds. I don’t like being watchedin my sleep, certainly notby some voyeuristic interloperbut…

    Lou Faber

  • THE SAINT OF UNCOUNTED NAMES

    A desert again,always a desertand she the saintof uncounted names,her crying eases, nosmile appears for thisMadonna of the coyotes,her orange-orbed eyesshuttered against theslowly retreating sun.Once her tears wateredthe desert sands, mixedwith the blood of a Christnow long forgotten, trans-substantiated into a spiritwe formed in our image,no longer we in his.The Blessed Motherwatches, holding hope,holding space,…

    Lou Faber

  • ON THE MESA

    On the mesa you can step outsideand look up at the sky,clouds building mountainsthat threaten to eat the sun,swallow the moon whole. On the mesa you can step outsideand feel incredibly small,listen to the coyotes withthe ears of scared children,unable to run like the jackrabbit. On the mesa you can step outsideand look up at…

    Lou Faber

  • NESSLESS

    There are no monstersin this lake I tellmy granddaughter, answeringher unasked question.There are bears in the woodsaround here and thereused to be an owl which madean afternoon visit.There are deer, certainlyand there could be a coyoteor two. If you don’tbelieve me, ask the crows,everyone knows that theycan never keep a secret. First published in From…

    Lou Faber

  • MEMORY

    We were told the average background color of the universe was turquoise.  She said “that’s because a coyote ripped it from the mountains outside Cerrillos.  But now they say it’s actually a shade of dark beige, drying mud colored.”  It was a glitch in the software, the astronomers said.  The coyote was unmoved. She sits…

    Lou Faber

  • MELODY

    I sing a shattered songof someone else’s youththe melody forgottenthe words faded into oddsyllables heard in my dreams.The coyote stands at the edgeof a gully staring at meand wondering why I slipfrom the hogan throughthe hole punchedin the back wallslinking awayin the encroaching dark.The priest, his saffron robespulled tight around his legsin the morning chill,stares…

    Lou Faber

  • MESA MORNING

    Out here, he warned, you should always be on the lookout for snakes by day, not that they will go out of their way to attack you, but stray into their territory and the Western Diamondback will give you a quick lesson in awareness. They hide among the scrub sage and in the arroyos, but…

    Lou Faber

  • TRICKSTER

    Coyote no longer inhabits the hill south of our city. Yet we know he is there, staring down at the lake, watching the grape clusters fatten on the vines. We cannot see the orange-red orbs of his eyes on a still winter night. We know he sees us. Coyote cannot be found, no carcasses attest…

    Lou Faber