an old writer and his words

  • SMALL REFLECTION

    It is that moment when the moonis a glaring crescent,slowly engulfed bythe impending night—when the few clouds give outtheir fading glowin the jaundiced lightof the sodium arc street lamp.It nestles the curb—at first a small bird—when touched, a twisted piece of root. I want to walk into the weed-strewnaging cemetery, stand in the shadowof the…

    Lou Faber

  • LUNA PENDING

    From the heart of the nightthe moon appeared, or a smallcrescent of it, coy this nightas she is on a regular basis. She hinted at her fullness,but we knew that was stilldays off, the moon keptto a rigid schedule always. But her reticence this nightinvited the stars to takethe stage, some we rarely seewhether hiding…

    Lou Faber