an old writer and his words

  • THREE HAIKU

    sun consumes itselffurnace heat grips the citysmall maple withers setting summer sunturns the river to purplemoon comes from hiding giant cranes are perchedon thin spindly legs, necks bowedsteel beams scratch the clouds

    Lou Faber

  • VULCAN’S FLAMES

    The ark of hope had sailedalmost empty, their realitywas free falling, their dreamsconsumed in the furnaceof their greed, their arrogance.Time was hanging suspended,they were grasping at the handsof the clock perched now inover the growing abyss.Once they had been gods, orimagined themselves so, nowthey were fuel for Vulcan’s flames.Once they were prophetsof an unbounded, unbridled…

    Lou Faber