an old writer and his words

  • AS INSTRUCTED

    As I was leaving the surgical centerthey handed me the sheetwith my post-procedure instructions,a sign of faith perhaps, that Iwas sufficiently out of the sedationto know what I was given. I tucked them in my pocket, anxiousto get home, to get coffeeand the food I’d been deniedsince midnight the night beforejust in case something went…

    Lou Faber

  • EMPTY SACKS WILL NEVER STAND UPRIGHT

    There are nightswhen the songof a single cricketcan pull you away from sleep.She says that she has heardthat not all Angels have wingsand neither of themis sure how you would knowif you met a bodhisattva.He searches the mailevery day, for a letterfrom unknown birth parentsbut none of the credit cardshe ought to carryoffers to rebate…

    Lou Faber

  • ADIOS, ARRIVADERCI, SO LONG

    As he grew ever older he saidhe wanted a sudden unanticipated death,“In my sleep preferably” he addedwith an unmeant chuckle. It would be a good way to go,I imagine, but it denies thosewho will most mourn his passingthe chance to hope for a miracle. And no matter when it happens,if it is sudden it will…

    Lou Faber

  • OF DREAMS

    I am now of an agewhere I can no longer rememberwhat terrors gripped my sonsin their dreams, causing themto appear beneath our blankets,I relegated to the bed’s edge. Perhaps there were noneand I was destined to bean edge sleeper, the boystaking advantage as a jokeplayed out night after night. I know what dreams nowcan rip…

    Lou Faber

  • OF DREAMS

    Last night in my sleepI though I heard an angelalthougn I could not, for trying,understand what it was saying,and it is odd since Ido not believe in angels. Perhaps it was the cat,but if so she has come upwith a new voice, using wordsnot formerly in her vocabulary,but you put nothingpast a cat, ever. I…

    Lou Faber

  • BLESSED

    Barchu, for the slugs of the Chinese knockoff AK47 which tore through his legs, twisting to avoid the artery and nerves. Barchu, for the moon hanging in the frosted night seeking shelter in the mist cutting into me, lashing me to reality. Barchu, for their memory the small circle of candles that burn eternally in…

    Lou Faber

  • DIFFERENT TODAY

    The air we breathe is different today,and we inhale more deeplywith the energy of our youth. The tears we cry today are notsolely tears of loss and sorrow,but also of promise and hope. The wine that we drink todaywill be the same as before, butnow sweeter on the tongue. The sleep that we sleep tonightwill…

    Lou Faber

  • AGING

    We live in the cell phone ageand there are hidden advantagesthat the young, exchanginglast year’s model for this,will never fully understanduntil they, too, are much older. With the push of a button,held in for five seconds,the phone will go off at night,and since no one any longerhas a landline, you are assuredthat no one will…

    Lou Faber

  • 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

  • GRANDCHILD

    You more easily rememberthe birth of a grandchildthan his or her parent whether from a memorysharpened by ageor regular sleep or by a visionmore acute for knowingwhat to look for, or simply a clingingtightly to any symbolof youth denied you. It may be as wellthat grandchildren seeyou differently than parents a hope for a long…

    Lou Faber