an old writer and his words

  • I WANT

    I want my poem to scream out so loudthat you will hear it even if you are notpaying attention or are busy with other thingsyou think are more important than poetry. Too often my poems just lie on the paper,or are dead pixels on a screen, whisperingwhat I wanted shouted, but I am so oftena…

    Lou Faber

  • A FOOL’S BUSINESS

    At the end of a long day spenton the business end of poetry, andyes there is a business end but do notconfuse that with money for thathas nothing at all to do with poetry,I stare at the page knowing the wordsare going to be stubborn this day,will refuse to exit the pen, hidingin the darkness…

    Lou Faber

  • RULES

    I learned from John Berrymanby way of W.S. Merwin that as a poetI should paper my walls with rejection letters.I thought this a good idea whenI lived in a small apartment, butall too soon the walls appearedto be growing ever smallerand I was papering over paper,like the latest in a too longline of tenants who…

    Lou Faber

  • MEMO TO MEMOIR

    I will recitemy absurdist life,and do so without coercionsave my need to tell it.Imagine a new wave filmin French, perhaps,directed by Dali and youmay approach my truth.If this is beyond you, Idon’t care, do you?In the end it is youthe listener who writesmy story, my life,and I am merelythe pen and paper,the prompt, so pleasehelp…

    Lou Faber

  • THE PAPER

    He was 11 when he first discovered it. Jimmy knew immediately that (1) it was something remarkable, (2) he didn’t understand it at all, and (3) he dare not let his parents know he had it. It was (3) that gave him the most worry. Not what they would do to him if they discovered…

    Lou Faber

  • FINAL ASSIGNMENT

    It is a rather simple assignment.Take a sheet of notebook paperand, staying within the lines,on one side of the page writea summary of your lifeup to this moment.You may not use extra sheetsnor may you write so smallas to get two or more linesbetween each of the ruled lines.Say what is important, saywhat needs to…

    Lou Faber

  • A QUIET CORNER

    He would see the older man most morningsat the small table in the coffee shopoverlooking the street, hunchedover his New York Times, oftenpen in hand on the crossword.The baristas all knew him, if not by name,saved the table for him be various meansuntil he arrived, when they wouldprepare his carrot muffin and cappuccino.He strained to…

    Lou Faber

  • UNSPOKEN

    There is so much that hewould talk about, but dare not say.He knows keeping it withinis a recipe for pain and sufferingbut letting it loose makesthat pain and suffering a certaintyfor others and he is notwilling to do that to anyone.He laughs when he wants so muchto curse language for wordsare all he has and…

    Lou Faber

  • I WONDER

    As a poet I would bemost interested in learningwhat you read when youare reading one of my poems. I know it sounds strange, after allI wrote it, but often when I readone of my poems it is differentin small or large waysfrom the last time I read it. I know that each reader in turnrewrites…

    Lou Faber

  • WHITE BREAD

    He was nondescript, innocuous. He named his dog Dog. His cat was called Cat. He grew daring with his parakeet and named it Wings. He wore beige from head to toe. Even his Sunday best, his “weddings and funerals suit” he called it, was beige. People wondered if his underwear was beige. He swore that…

    Lou Faber