an old writer and his words

  • PRISONERS

    As we sitin the great metal tubewe imagine ourselvesbirds awaiting the freedomonly the sky offers. The clouds reach downswaddling us and werealize that we haveyet to fledge, likelynever will do so. Peering out the smallwindow, the earth shrinksand grows large again,and as we step out,the birds look at usand feel only pity.

    Lou Faber

  • SPRING

    She says her favorite monthis May, when spring’s gripis tightest, but most of allshe cherishes the rain.She is intimate with the rain,there is a privacy that onlyshe can concede, if she wants.She can take a drop of rainand it is hers alone, she needonly share it with the sky,it is always clean on her tongue.She…

    Lou Faber