an old writer and his words

  • THE POWER

    You tell methat the keyto the universeresides in E.To Einsteinit was simplea point from whichthe universe arisesits final catafalque.How, I ask,can symbolic failurebe critical,what is so specialabout fivewhy ought I carefor the third degreeof a natural scaleI cannot hopeto ascend.Perhaps it isonly your eccentricity.You tell meto refine my visionto consult Eulerbut it is fartoo transcendentalfor…

    Lou Faber

  • THE EASE OF FORGETTING

    I have little memory of the manwho was my first adoptive fatherand none of his funeral, two-year-olds,my mother said, should notknow of death at that age.Nor did I attend my grandmother’s,she the mother of my second adoptive fatherbecause 12-year-old shouldn’thave the memory of funerals,according to my mother.I did attend her mother’s funeral,had to because I…

    Lou Faber

  • EDGE OF THE ABYSS

    He sits on the edgepeering down, shakingin the breeze, knowingthe abyss below waitsfor a misstep, a slip. He stares up, waitingfor her return, hopingshe will soon arrivebringing the meal, neverenough always wanting more. He knows he willsomeday soon haveto leave, but for nowall he can do is spreadhis wings, flap them, until it will seem…

    Lou Faber

  • SUBSTITUTE

    Language is becoming a poor substitutealthough I have no word for what it isthat it is a poor substitute for at present. I grabbed an organic bananafrom the refrigerator this morningand paused to wonder if there areinorganic bananas somewhere. My New York Times, as usual, offeredAll The News That Is Fit To Printbut I really…

    Lou Faber

  • OH, REALLY?

    The box said all natural. That alone was nothing unusual, but it was on tomatoes. How, he wondered, could tomatoes but unnatural, or worse still partially natural, partially not. Had they cloned the tomato? Would cloning make it unnatural, and if so, how could you tell it from the original which was natural? And these…

    Lou Faber

  • DEPARTURE

    It is that magical hour of the day when the sun sets the pond’s surface ablaze. The fountain in the middle shoots drops of liquid fire into to sky, only to watch them return to their now fiery home. This magic only lasts a few moments before the water returns to its natural state, and…

    Lou Faber