an old writer and his words

  • THE BLEEDING EDGE

    We are lovers of novelty, we wantall that is new or clingingto what we imagine are our roots.It has long been this way,you need only look at the map.Hampshire, York, Jersey, andfor that matter Brunswick and Mexico.We crave innovation, we alwayswant to be on the cutting edge, forgettingthat all too soon it will becomethe bleeding…

    Lou Faber

  • STATUS OF LIBERTY

    Do us a favorhold backon your tired, your poor.We’re no longer real hoton those yearning to be free.We left it on the plaquebut no one’s supposedto read them anyway.Take the hint,we closed the Island,made it a museumthat oughtto tell you something.Emma’s dead, get it,and Lazarus, welljust read your Bible.We closed the sweatshopsand shipped outall those…

    Lou Faber

  • HERE LIES

    Ambrose Bierce walked into Mexico one day, and was never seen again. That was surprising enough, but more so, he left no epitaph, the least you would expect from a writer. In retrospect, perhaps he was the smarter one, for I know othersl who have spent countless hours trying to devise the perfect epitaph, knowing…

    Lou Faber

  • SOUTH OR SO IT SEEMS

    It was tacky then, it’s epitome and six decades and unknown views later it hasn’t changed at all. You don’t expect tackiness to accrete, yet like a black hole this is irrefutable evidence it has. To say it is garish to insult the term, since it is so much more, beyond anything the term can…

    Lou Faber