an old writer and his words

  • DREAM WALKER

    I listen for you in the night, your breathing sets the rhythm of my dreams. It was not always like this. Much as the cat craves a gentle stroking of her back, I long to trace your spine, measure each vertebra by the length of my caress, but I don’t want to pull you fitfully…

    Lou Faber

  • LOVER

    There is a moment just after the  lights are turned off, when the ticking of the clock on the nightstand is amplified, reverberating off the skylights, when the heat of your body is a blanket from which I never wish to emerge.

    Lou Faber

  • SENSING NIGHT

    “Turn on the light so I can hear you,” she says, and I reach for the switch across the room. “Please whisper,” I respond “and I may be able to see my way to the window.” I draw up the shade and in the dim glow of the night’s light I feel the braying of…

    Lou Faber

  • SUMMER NIGHT

    The moon etches itself into the cobalt sky. Orion rests on the margin of too tall eucalyptus that reach up to ensnare him. Luna’s face floats on the gently shifting pond staring up at the moon recognizing no one. She wonders why the stars move slowly as she sits transfixed. On the window sill Shakyamuni Buddha…

    Lou Faber

  • TAOS EVENING

    On the mesa between El Prado and Tres Piedras after the sun has been swallowed by  the mountains, to the east a fire burns. Countless stars stare down on the shivering sage. The scorpion lunges for the distant hill. The fire grows behind the mountain, the orange disk rises slowly. The smallest stars flee Luna’s…

    Lou Faber

  • ALL THAT JAZZ

    The cat only wants to go outside.  It’s night, her favorite time, and she stalks the uncoiled garden hose, which has become a fierce green snake that falls to her attack.  He and she are dead tired, drowned in the sixth night of the fifth annual jazz festival.  His shirt is bathed in the half…

    Lou Faber