an old writer and his words

  • A LIFE, LIVED

    The moon, a warm summer night, two ducks, a pond, utter stillness, a mirror weeping, deep purple velvet, a feather racing a leaf across the morning sky, a door swinging, a gate without hinges.

    Lou Faber

  • THE TRICKSTER RESPONDS

    The man liked to cry out into the night, asking questions for which he knew there could be no answers, or if there were, they would be things he would never wish to hear. The coyotes in the hills would listen to his pleas, his entreaties, his moaning, and they would remember the spirits of…

    Lou Faber

  • ON THIS NIGHT

    On this night the moon retreats from the sky, leaving the stars to play hide and seek behind broken clouds. The silence is enfolding, save for the whistle of a distant train traversing the city, and the whisper of the wind caressing the needles of the pine who answer wih a passionate moan.

    Lou Faber

  • EVENTIDE

    The sky is the leaden gray that denies the sun and threatens the moon’s arrival. It presses down on the roofs of the tallest buildings, wraps them in a depression those on the street below feel without need of looking up. This is a teasing sky, a drop here, there, until we know we are…

    Lou Faber

  • LUNA BECKONS

    The perigee moon hangs heavily over the city, clinging to the horizon as though it wishes to flee deep into the night, turning away the attention in inevitably draws. We are pulled toward it by some deeply felt force that we know we dare not question, for we must honor the moon’s secrets as we…

    Lou Faber

  • IN DREAMS

    Mingling with the wind, my dreams are carried off into the night before I have fully finished viewing them. The heavy heat of summer has seeps through the windows, a blanket I cannot throw off almost smothering, until it, too, is soon washed away by the rivulets of sweat soaking into the sheets. I reach…

    Lou Faber

  • NIGHT SONG

    The evening shows no reluctance in enveloping the dregs of the day, leaving a cool breath of promise. The clouds build in enveloping the moon half pillow, half shroud. Tomorrow is an empty promise that will accept what we offer or nothing at all, save the rain it will hold back another day. One star…

    Lou Faber

  • THE SKY

    The sky is the leaden gray that denies the sun and threatens the moon’s arrival. It presses down on the roofs of the talest buildings, wraps them in a depression those on the street below feel without need of looking up. This is a teasing sky- a drop here, there, until we know we are…

    Lou Faber

  • FERRYMAN

    He comes to me in the dead hour of night the old shriveled man poling his poor ferry across the river of my dreams. He comes when the moon has fled and the stars fall mute and he beckons me holding out the copper coins stating his fare. He comes to me, beckoning, and for…

    Lou Faber

  • ROAD TRIP

    Two nights gone and sleep has come fitfully, and I stir each time I reach across the bed and you aren’t there, and there is only the faintest smell of bleach and cleaning solvent. I want very much to dream of you, to trace your cheek with dream fingers, to taste your lips on mine,…

    Lou Faber