an old writer and his words

  • DID YOU?

    Sitting on the chairin the photographer’s studiodid you ever pause to wonderthat day, the snow fallingoutside the papered-over windowskeeping the light whollywithin his control,how many lonely menmight keep your picture, youtheir imagined once loverwho left, who died, whogrew apart over time,on their mantle, coffeetable, nightstand, dresser.Did you even know youwould be framed countless timesin several…

    Lou Faber

  • CASTLES

    Standing along the stone fencein the late afternoon shadowof Auchnanure Castle, as friendsmade their way up the narrowstone stairs to gaze out overthe Irish field in which we stood.We watched horses in the adjacent fielddash wildly toward us as if saying“damn the old stones, here is the photofor which you came to Ireland.” Orsaying “let…

    Lou Faber

  • AND NEXT

    “I’m not getting any younger”is, of course, a positively idiotic statementbeating the obvious to deathwith a blunt verbal instrument.But it still beats sayingthat death impends ever closerfor that is simply turgidand odious all at the same time.What I’m here to sayis that by being crematedI’m saving you all mannerof expense, no gravesite, no stone,no maintenance…

    Lou Faber

  • ASHES TO ASHES

    He says he wants to knowwhat I want done with my ashesknowing I want to be cremated. I tell him I need to thinkabout that for a while, knowingthat “while” could be an evershortening lifespan, but Idare not tell him that, itsimply wouldn’t be acceptablehe would respond, setting offanother endless discussion. I don’t say that…

    Lou Faber

  • GREAT DANGER

    There are those who saythat we are engagedin a culture war, and thatmay be an apt description,even as it misses its mark. It is hardly cultures thatare at war, but those whotake shelter under theirfalse mantle, armoredin labels, shielded by cliches. But the weapons of the warare quite real, knownfor ages, Stalin and Alexiecalling them…

    Lou Faber

  • ON THE MANTLE

    Perhaps it is just that Ido not have a mantle on whichto place the cherished artifactsof my life, my parentsand grandparents photos,a family Tanach, the tallismy first adoptive father woreto his Bar Mitzvah. I have nothing, which this dayseems sadly appropriate,for their history really isnot mine, never was, Isimply borrowed it for a timebut all…

    Lou Faber

  • INVASION

    The light has fadedand the wetland lies underits mantle of faint starlight. The birds are there, wecan hear them, but our eyesdo not allow us to see them,despite our desire to havemore time with them. They can see us, in our well lit homes, staring out,but they do not want particularly to see us. To us they…

    Lou Faber

  • EVERYTHING IN ITS PLACE

    He captured the stray beams of light in a small amber bottle and tucked it into a dark corner of a shelf in his basement. He canned a small bit of the sky, sealed it carefully, placing it in his pantry, for posterity. He stored his collection of dawns in and old cedar chest in…

    Lou Faber