an old writer and his words

  • NAME THAT

    It should be daunting, sittingin a waiting area in a gownthat is open in the back, the roomlike most all in such officesmore refrigerator than lounge.She smile and says “It’s your turn,we’ll do one, take another patientand then the other. Is that okay?”A nice question but it isn’t likeI have any real choice.The MRI tube…

    Lou Faber

  • BUENOS AIRES ON THE GENESEE

    If this were Buenos Aires, if I were Borges, it would all make a great deal of sense. A man, older, and older still if you look closely, walks into an elegant hotel bar. A jazz quintet is playing, straight up, trumpet, piano, guitar, stand up bass, drum kit. The older man is wearing white…

    Lou Faber

  • SUZY

    What do you sayon the loss of a child?We sat in the loungedrinking a vile potionfrom a hollowed pineapple,giggling insanelyfor no reason.We wandered the tunnelsfaces painted,clowns in bedlam.We lay togetheron a mattresson the floor and listenedto Aqualungmy arms around youboth, but sleepcame slowly and we talkeduntil night ran fromthe encroaching sun. I can feel her…

    Lou Faber

  • FIRST PERIOD

    They stand impatiently in line chattering, giggling, tittering like so many schoolgirls with secrets they promised to keep to their deaths and have to immediately tell a friend. “Did you hear about Letitia?” one says, and goes on to say she shared her journal with several other girls in the eighth grade. It goes on…

    Lou Faber

  • BUENOS AIRES ON THE GENESEE

    If this were Buenos Aires, if I were Borges, it would all make a great deal of sense.  A man, older, and older still if you look closely, walks into an elegant hotel bar.  A jazz quintet is playing, straight up, trumpet, piano, guitar, stand up bass, drum kit.  The older man is wearing white…

    Lou Faber