an old writer and his words

  • MOTHER TONGUE

    The English language is a joyif you have a truly twistedsense of normalcy, and the wordfashion can easily be its role model.As verb you fashion something,make, construct with an implicationof personal physical activity,an active verb after all.As a noun it is all a quitedifferent world, a world of clothing,of style and, properly, the prevailingstyle of…

    Lou Faber

  • FELIS CATUS

    When you live with the cat,which is to say when a catallows you to live in her home,you quickly learn a wholenew language, a few words hers,mono- or bisyllabic, words for yes,food, brush, clean up my litter,and in our case even thank you, rarely used.And you expand your own vocabularyas well, for English is often…

    Lou Faber

  • STATUS OF LIBERTY

    Do us a favorhold backon your tired, your poor.We’re no longer real hoton those yearning to be free.We left it on the plaquebut no one’s supposedto read them anyway.Take the hint,we closed the Island,made it a museumthat oughtto tell you something.Emma’s dead, get it,and Lazarus, welljust read your Bible.We closed the sweatshopsand shipped outall those…

    Lou Faber

  • WRITTEN

    It was written for all to seebut went unseen as no oneentered the portal willingly,never sufficient curiosityto offset the foreboding.Everyone knew what it saidbut knowing and seeing areseparated by an unbridgeable chasm.It remained an imposed solitude,an isolation inherent in location,implicit in a world spinningoff its moral axis, time extendedand compressed, an irregular pulse.It was written…

    Lou Faber

  • THEATER OF THE ABSURD

    If Aristophanes were suddenlyto arrive here, he would no doubtpause, but with the eye he had,would soon discover such a treasuretrove of material, he could producecomedies to last several lifetimes. The problem would be in findingthe right audience, for here we havelittle taste and patience for the sortof comedy at which he was so adept,and…

    Lou Faber

  • WANTING

    I wanted to write like Heaneybut of course he got there firstand could do it in two languages,so that was out of the question. I tried to write like otherof the greats only to find thatwhat set them apart from so manyset them rather far apart from me. So I an left to write as…

    Lou Faber

  • A SIMPLE TASK

    You misunderstand me, he said,I did not ask you to write a poemabout a flower, anyone can do that,I asked you to write a poem with a flower. Do not ask me what the poemwill be about, ask the flower, butfirst you must learn to speakthe language of the flowers. If you find this difficult,…

    Lou Faber

  • ABSURD, FL

    The utter and complete absurdityof living in Florida canbe ever so easily illustrated. Last evening the neighbor’sdog decided it neededto express itself and did soin clear and loud terms. The limpkins and gallinulesin the wetland behindboth our homes shouted backand based on my admittedlylimited vocabulary of birdthere were several fourletter words and at least oneupraised…

    Lou Faber

  • AFOOT, A CITY

    As you walk the streetsof a city like New York,you hear a polyglot of languages,and closing your eyes youmight have no idea where you were. Listen carefully, eavesdropon conversations, imagine the storiesthey are telling, the joysand heartbreak laid bare before you,half heard, half filled into make the story palatable to you. Life in the city…

    Lou Faber

  • LUNA’S SONG

    Tonight, when the sunhas finally conceded the dayto its distant but ever larger kin,the moon will again singher ever waning songhoping we will joinin a chorus we haveso long forgotten,bound to the earthin body and in waxing thought. We will stop and listenperhaps, over the dinof the city, the traffic,the animals conversingwith the sky, our…

    Lou Faber