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

  • CHOSEN WORDS

    There are times when I pause and wonder howthe words that are my stock in trade view me.Do I empower them, give them a meaningthat they would lack without my imposedcontext, or do I imprison them, locking themon a page or screen, forced into proximitywith others they never would have chosen.What would they say to…

    Lou Faber

  • ACROSS A BORDER

    I can only begin to imagine, vicariously,what it is like to cross the borderinto the land of deafness, hear all you knewfade and garble, need vision to seewhat a speaker is saying, wonder whysongs you thought you knew nowhave lyrics you do not recognize at all.My wife is on this journey and nowhas a cochlear…

    Lou Faber

  • RULES

    W. Somerset Maugham suggestedthat there are three rules for writinga novel, but no one knows what they are.I suppose the same could be saidfor writing poetry, with a twistfor there are three rules for thisas well, but everyone knowsprecisely what they are not.Writers and poets must be rebels,writing what must be saidand damning the consequencesfor…

    Lou Faber

  • LONE STAR

    I feel like I ought to beliving in Texas againfor everything, they say,is bigger in Texas and youdon’t argue with a Texan. So much in my life is bigger nowa computer monitor that wouldpass for a moderate sized TV,with font so large a single pagefills the screen, and the tabletthe size of, but thank Godnot…

    Lou Faber

  • MOON WATCH

    I’m guessing it wasabout 2 AM, I can’t be suresince the only clockin the bedroom was analogand unlighted, visible only by day. I don’t know what woke me,it just seems to happen, but the moonwas peering in between the slatsof closed window blinds. I don’t like being watchedin my sleep, certainly notby some voyeuristic interloperbut…

    Lou Faber

  • DEGENERATION

    I feel like I ought to beliving in Texas againfor everything, they say,is bigger in Texas, and youdon’t argue with a Texan. So much in my life is bigger now,a computer monitor that wouldpass for a moderate sized TV,with font so large a single pagefills the screen, and the tabletthe size of, but thank Godnot…

    Lou Faber

  • PAPER CUTS

    Paper is at once boththe cruelest invention a writermay have stumbled acrossand also her salvation. The blank page invites,often demands the penand is unjudging, yet the poetmay change or deletebut the paper retains the originaland throws it back in his face. The computer, many say,changed all of that, backspaceor highlight and delete andthat mistake, misuse,…

    Lou Faber

  • EMERGENT

    When I least expect it, onemay unfurl wings and liftinto a clouded sky searchingfor the hidden sun, or it may wander off, a childmomentarily free of parentsoff to discover the real world, or it may retreat back intothe pen, unwilling to be seen,objecting to its misuse, or it may sit in front of the TVand…

    Lou Faber

  • CHRISTMAS

    It isn’t my first Christmasalthough almost so, thatpart of me hidden for halfa century, its twisted discoveryfilling a hole that I neverknew existed, yet always knew. This is the strangest Christmas,a time of gathering, nowin isolation, only pixelsand prayers on a too flat screen,and it is hard, in timesof want and suffering, to recallwhy we…

    Lou Faber