an old writer and his words

  • THIS POEM

    will not marvel at the dawn will not stare at the ebb and flow of the sea will not see ghosts in the clouds over Dachau  will sit on the page staring back will remember the torn wallpaper will cry out, always unanswered  will not trace your spine, lingering on each vertebra will not make…

    Lou Faber

  • INTERACTIVE

      He slides into the bed after she is long asleep.  It is a well rehearsed dance, and she senses his presence deep within her dreams.  He leans into his wife, traces his finger tip down from her temple, along the line of her jaw, into the hollow of her neck.  In this dream she…

    Lou Faber