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

  • OCULUS

    There is little goodyou want to say aboutMacular Degeneration, lessabout geographical atrophy,nothing it seems you can dountil it crosses that lineand wetness sets in. But there is one hiddenadvantage and thatis the magical powerto make people headlessand cars disappearon the highway. All I need do is shutmy left eye and if I amten feet or…

    Lou Faber

  • HAWKING SANITY

    I am not the least bit certain why the red-tailed hawk chose that lamppost that day and peered down over the Expressway. Nature has her own logic and we question it at our own risk. Staring into his flaming eyes, for one small moment we both saw the foolishness rolling by below and alongside us.

    Lou Faber