an old writer and his words

  • WINDOWS

    The problem, she says,is that we think that windows are thereto look out of, to see the world outside.If you believe that, she adds, whydo half the windows on your houseoffer you a view of the house next door,or if you must live in New York Citythe windows of another apartmentor building, knowing they havethe…

    Lou Faber

  • HORIZON

    He was always lookingto the horizon, as if tomorrowwould provide some small hintof what was to come, knowingthe shadows of yesterday wouldalways be trailing behind him, hisalbatross of unfulfilled dreams.He knew it was a futile searchthat he was wasting his presentfor a future that would arrive on its terms,but compulsions were things hehad been powerless…

    Lou Faber

  • DREAMING OF FLIGHT

    As a child I, like so many others,imagined we might have wingsand could take flight at will, unrestrainedby gravity or parents, a freedomboth denied us: for our own goodthe parents said, silently by gravity.We would look at the sky, the clouds,the birds cavorting without seeming careas we were called in for homework,piano practice, household chores.Now…

    Lou Faber

  • RECONSTRUCTIONS

    Night descended on herlike an elevator untethered,her memories in freefall into darkness.She could not forget the storiesthe elder ones quietly told,the numbers always clothed over,their smiles forced or freely given,depending on the directionof the ever-present winds of emotion.She knew she was a prisoner of her past,her inheritance both joys and horrorsinterwoven into the fabric of…

    Lou Faber

  • BAREFOOT

    He says his favorite cloudsall wear size seven shoes.He knows she believesshe once saw a paisley rainbowand will never forget it.She wears size seven shoesand her tears can be torrential,yet they can still nurturethe first flowers of spring.He imagines her a butterflysitting on the back of his hand,gossamer wings poisedat the thin edge of stillness.He…

    Lou Faber

  • EXTINCTION

    The days are shorteningas they should, going forwardon their slow march from equilibrium.The birds arrive and leaveas they should, caring nothingfor clocks or calendars, merelyreading the sky and weather.They know their worldis changing, hotter daysand nights and the stormsthey must outfly growingever stronger, more dangerous.They know that we are the cause,our greed, our arrogance,and they…

    Lou Faber

  • CASSIE

    I looked for you last nightwhen the cloud slowly peeled backand the moon reluctantly went dark.Despite my presbyopia I foundyour throne lying in view, emptyand you nowhere to be seen, evenPersius said he never saw you leave.I truly miss you, Cassie and hopeyou will soon return for the starsare diminished by your absence.

    Lou Faber

  • LEAVING

    They don’t do that here,the leaves do not demand to be seenonly in their chosen seasonsand their palette is self-limited.There is no budding in spring,no malus or prunus throwing offwild cascades of white and pinkpainting the ground around them.There is no riot of coloras summer retreats and winterplans its eventual arrival,blazing reds and oranges,yellow, ochers…

    Lou Faber

  • THE HERMIT

    The hermit livesin the shadowof the great mountainlistening to the symphonyof the bluebirdand the wild Roseengulfed by the sky,the meandering streamhis constant companion.I live in a cityin a sea of city dwellerseach of us prisonersmarching from cellto cell, with passing nods.we hear only solitudeand are blindto the ever shifting clouds.Kuan Yin sitsin her templeand whispers…

    Lou Faber

  • VINCENT

    When we visited Arleswe expected to see paintingsof wildflowers, night skies,all the images that Van Goghleft as his legacy. We did see posters,postcards and booksbut not a single paintingis to be found by the masterwhere he painted. We at least hopedthe night sky from the boatwould be somethingto remember alwaysbut clouds over Arleslook much the…

    Lou Faber