an old writer and his words

  • THE PARK

    He was taking a shortcut across the park. He saw the clouds building, about to bring the long-promised rain. He wasn’t sure why he decided to walk home rather than take the bus as he usually did. He didn’t like to walk, but the doctor had told him he needed to exercise more, and he…

    Lou Faber

  • LURKING

    You lurk behind meas I sit at the islandboth the messenger and the message.You appear magicallyon my chair back, your tailwrapping my neck, a mink like scarfregardless of the temperature.I hear a slowly growing rumbleas if with my ear to the groundI can sense a distant temblor.And then there is the flickof dampened sandpaper on…

    Lou Faber