an old writer and his words

  • GREAT DIVIDE

    The truck, a white Ford F-150with oversized tires was parkedon the lawn next to the smallparking lot, filling quickly as peoplearrived for the community market. There was a giant flag fixedto the bed of the truck, unavoidableflapping in the breeze,“Let’s Go Brandon,” and everyoneknew the message all too well. Some averted their eyes, a fewsmiled,…

    Lou Faber

  • REAR VIEW MIND

    I spent too much time lookingbackward, looking into the past,looking into the mirrorto frame a dream historyof my desires and fears.He called one morning, lefta message, “Mother died,more details will follow.”A mother his by birth,mine by legal act.I should have felt stunnedanger, I said quietly to myselfhe’s cocky, has issues, and wentabout momentary mourning.That is…

    Lou Faber

  • CHRISTMAS

    It isn’t my first Christmasalthough almost so, thatpart of me hidden for halfa century, its twisted discoveryfilling a hole that I neverknew existed, yet always knew. This is the strangest Christmas,a time of gathering, nowin isolation, only pixelsand prayers on a too flat screen,and it is hard, in timesof want and suffering, to recallwhy we…

    Lou Faber

  • CALL AGAIN

    You called again this morning, and,as usual, long before I was awake.You left no message, but you never do,and I do wish you’d stay in one place just for a while, it would make findingyou to speak with you much easier.This morning you were in Azerbaijan,and last week you called from Belarus. Later today you…

    Lou Faber

  • PIQUE

    One of these days soon the sun will again get angry, will blow off steam and all manner of signals will get the message loud if not clearly. The sun can get away with it and we accept it, if not willingly but begrudgingly. When we blow off such steam cities melt, and the angry…

    Lou Faber

  • IN TRANSIT

    Mom died, the text message read, similar words we’ve been hearing too frequently but always leaving us with the same hopelessness. The words my brother, estranged now, estranged then, come to think of it, said two years ago in a quickly left phone message. I thought of confronting him, but when he never answered, I…

    Lou Faber

  • SEARCH

    forty-three years I’ve searched for my voice a whisper cracked hoarse one moment fluid another then silent. I shape words which fall off my tongue and lie in puddles on the floor. I step in them slipping regaining perilous toehold. I scream strangled thoughts dreams are forgotten the night laughs, she touches my forehead with…

    Lou Faber

  • WE HEAR YOU

    He loves looking at the sky, particularly at night for he knows someday they will contact him, and if not him, someone else who, like him, loves looking at the sky. He has no idea what the message will be he isn’t sure he, or anyone, will be able to understand it, but he is…

    Lou Faber

  • MESSAGE RECEIVED

    There was nothing he liked more than wandering along the shore early in the morning, before the rakes and people arrived, just to see what the night had washed in on the now departed high tide. There would be shells of course, but rarely one he didn’t have already in profusion, and the occasional jellyfish…

    Lou Faber