an old writer and his words

  • TOO SOON

    NOTE: My new book is here at last. It has been 16 years in the making, nine of which I have spent producing this blog. Since you have been following and reading my work which I appreciate, if you would like a copy Free of the Shadow for $10 (shipping included) rather than its list…

    Lou Faber

  • HARBINGER

    I am slowly going blind.I may, with luck, never get thereif saying that has not already jinxed me.Going blind as you ageis rather fitting in a strange wayfor as the memory slips and peoplefade from its cornersand alcoves, when I can nolonger see them they are also gone.So if, one day, I see youand do…

    Lou Faber

  • REVERBERATION

    The echo of lovemay have a longer decaythan the moment giving it birth.Ever fainter by desire or spiteit remains limpet-like graspingas if the inexorable fadingcan be stilled by arising memories.Once the bonds are brokenit can remain an artifact, a momentvalued in itself evenwhen the source is no longerpresent or wanted, for itremains woven deeply intothe…

    Lou Faber

  • FORGOTTEN

    In the great cemeteryin a corner reserved for thatostentation only wealth can buyI am struck by one massivemarble walled mausoleum.Who lies within is of noimportance to anyone otherthan the ones who lie within.Small graves in common bulksections are dotted with freshor faded flowers waitingto nourish the soil, or is itthe souls of those who lie…

    Lou Faber

  • UNSCRIPTED

    I am so tired of readinglines written for me by othersalways a cold readinglacking emotion and substance.I have my own voice, readyto deliver my soliloquy.I have been livingfor seven decades.But I know that Iwill be seen as yetanother Yorickushered off the stage.And I imaging myselfremembered by someone youngerwho will recall no morethan a passing memory.

    Lou Faber

  • SEPARATING

    We sometimes speak of continentspulling apart, land bridges severed,the route taken to get here now gone,no going back, no back to go to.The continent of my youth, myyoung adulthood is gone, recededinto the fog of fading memory, and Iam now a prisoner of sorts on thisnew continent of life, moving evermore quickly to an unavoidable…

    Lou Faber

  • FATHERING

    There is a certain cruelty in knowingwhere my birth father is buried, a pictureof his headstone in the National Cemetery,his face as I know it cropped from a group photoof his unit while stationed in New Hampshire.The cruelty is not in that fact, or that I havea picture of the grave of my first adoptivefather…

    Lou Faber

  • THE OLD MAN

    My father was the old mancurled in the hospital bed,his mind and memoriesseeping into the sheetsuntil only the husk remainedand I knew that it, too,would soon be reduced to ash.In my dream I wasthe old man in that bedbut I knew it was not mefor I clearly rememberedmy fading father wellwhile he, in those days,remembered…

    Lou Faber

  • MY JUDAS

    He, the one I called brotherwanted whatever I hadto give, a droit deprimogeniture, and Icould easily be cast aside,a genetic other with claimonly of time, not blood.Why did they concede to himor were they aware?It hardly matters nowfor they are gone, sheto rest with her daughter,he I know not wherefor there was nothingin the text…

    Lou Faber

  • ONLY ONE WORLD

    Everyone wants to go back tothe “I wish it were like this world,”one that never existed, couldn’twith each of those worlds beingunique and unlike every otherand even if it were possibleonly one person would gettheir wish fulfilled leavingthe rest of us in a placethat we can never fully imagine,So knowing they cannot go there,they want…

    Lou Faber