an old writer and his words

  • HUP TWO

    In his dreams he is still marching across endless paved paths on an Air Force Base that might be Texas or might just be hell. In his recollection, in July there is virtually no difference between the two. He stirs each time his Drill Instructor bellows, which is every few minutes, likely seconds in this…

    Lou Faber

  • MISSING PERSONS

    I enter the station house and walk up to the neck high desk. I would like to report a missing person. I have been gone more than twenty-four hours. I can’t give a very good description, my eyes see in the mirror a still young man sitting in a park in Salt Lake City in…

    Lou Faber