an old writer and his words

  • JANUARY

    It is an odd feeling, in the middleof January, to no longer considerbecoming a bear, choosingto hibernate until Spring arrivesdemanding an awakening. I did that for years, nevergrew the heavy fur coat neededand wasn’t much for digging densin the snow, so I sat insideand dreamed of bearishness. Living now among the birdswhere we shiver when…

    Lou Faber

  • LIKE DUST

    We are obligated to carry memories, and as we get older, the burden grows ever heavier, we bend under its weight, knowing we dare not lose even one for once cast off, the weight is carried off like the smallest feather on a storming wind. Soon enough it is we who Will become the burden…

    Lou Faber

  • AWAITING THE WAVES

    “Describe yourself,” she said “that I might capture you if only for this moment a footprint left once you have departed this place and time.” I am, I should think, biologically plausible though straining the bounds of reason once and again. I tend to philosophic androgyny hovering on the fulcrum of paradox. I am the…

    Lou Faber