an old writer and his words

  • APPROACHING

    The perfect time of dayoccurs only as the deadof night approaches, thatmoment when the heartof the city falls almost silent. In smaller cities this momentis protracted, arising as the moonreaches toward full expressionand such as pass for tallbuildings settle into sleep. In the great cities, thosethat claim never to sleep,the city reverberates, echoingoff the endless…

    Lou Faber

  • NIGHT AT THE PUB

    It’s a fading memory now, a hole in the wall then, CBGB’s, loud, but nothing happening at Tommy Makem’s and here the cop and his pals play angry Irish with a foot in reggae and ska. I’m too old to be here, but no one really cares as long as I buy my Bushmills or…

    Lou Faber