an old writer and his words

  • FLOATING, SOARING

    You see them circling in a sun drenched sky,graceful, soaring without expending energy.You know they are vultures, but that thoughtis momentarily lost as you imagine yourselfa wingman to any one of them, freeof the shackles that gravity imposes.One or two land nearby and you pausenow wondering what has died to drawtheir interest, these morticians of…

    Lou Faber

  • THE FIRE THIS TIME

    He said he did not want a funeral, certainly did not want to be buried. It would be a waste of wood and metal, and its only purpose would be to enrich the mortician and it is not like he will run out of customers any time in the near future. Not, at least, until…

    Lou Faber

  • MEMORY

    We were told the average background color of the universe was turquoise.  She said “that’s because a coyote ripped it from the mountains outside Cerrillos.  But now they say it’s actually a shade of dark beige, drying mud colored.”  It was a glitch in the software, the astronomers said.  The coyote was unmoved. She sits…

    Lou Faber