an old writer and his words

  • CANINE

    The dog refuses to walkaround the house and checkthe driveway, and sothe shells will rain on the villageas they do each time she senses fear. She has a sight beyond thatI can fathom, curled underthe heat vent, as thoughthe cries of children carryin her dreams, her taildances against the grate. On most nights when she…

    Lou Faber

  • BEFORE YOU LEAP

    She always told himthat he should, no must,“look before you leap.” He said he understoodand would do so, almostalways, he was after alla child and no promisecould be that absolute. When he came outof the anesthesia,his arm and legin a cast, he saw herscowling at him. “I did,” he said, “I did,I looked for quite…

    Lou Faber

  • TOOLING AROUND

    I have always wantedto use the word lugnutsin a poem, but stillhave never foundthe way to do so. It is much the samewith my full setof socket wrenches,still in futile searchfor a matchingset of sockets. I keep my bastardfile in the garagewith the other filesand tools, butmy name isthe only one in it.

    Lou Faber

  • I WISH I MAY, I WISH I MIGHT

    Tonight, if the sky remains mostly cloudless I will go out into the yard and select a star. The selection is easy, dragging it into the garage unseen is a far more difficult task. It will have to be a rather small star, a neutron would do but with my bad back the weight might…

    Lou Faber