an old writer and his words

  • SAVANNAH DREAMS

    Slide between the sheetsexhausted after a day of walkingthe streets of this old city.This is a city of squares, statuestoo many to fully recall, eachone’s history unknown to most,and with the slowly falling rainto remain unknown to us.Despite its age and great beautythis is a tourist city, one whererestaurants don’t take reservationsknowing their tables will…

    Lou Faber

  • SMALL REFLECTION

    It is that moment when the moonis a glaring crescent,slowly engulfed bythe impending night—when the few clouds give outtheir fading glowin the jaundiced lightof the sodium arc street lamp.It nestles the curb—at first a small bird—when touched, a twisted piece of root. I want to walk into the weed-strewnaging cemetery, stand in the shadowof the…

    Lou Faber

  • HAUNTING

    The ghosts of my birth parentsblow into my dreams asso many white sheets tornfrom the clotheslineby gale winds, fly over me,at once angels and vulturescarrying off memoriescreated from the clayof surmise and wishful thinking. I invite their visits, frailbranches to which to clingin the storms of growing age,beginnings tenuous anchorsto hold against time, knowingthe battle…

    Lou Faber

  • IN DREAMS

    Mingling with the wind, my dreams are carried off into the night before I have fully finished viewing them. The heavy heat of summer has seeps through the windows, a blanket I cannot throw off almost smothering, until it, too, is soon washed away by the rivulets of sweat soaking into the sheets. I reach…

    Lou Faber