an old writer and his words

  • SUSIE

    What do you say on the loss of a child? We sat in the lounge drinking a vile potion from a hollowed pineapple giggling insanely for no reason. We wandered the tunnels faces painted, clowns in bedlam. We lay together on a mattress on the floor and listened to Aqualung my arms around you both,…

    Lou Faber

  • SENTINEL

    The streetlight is a nocturnal Sentinel staring down. In some cities in other parts of this it could tell of the cries of drunks stumbling from closing bars, ambulances flashing in its cast shadows. On the street with sleeping homes it tells only of the snow that cradles its base.

    Lou Faber

  • APPARITION

    In the night what I am perched on the edge of sleep you appear, just out of the dream shadows, avoiding the light, you are featureless. I call to you and I think you must be smiling but your voice is the wind through the Austrian pines and the drip from the ever shrinking icicles…

    Lou Faber

  • CASTING THUNDER

    The night was ripped by the lightning, the thunder piercing our dreams, awakening us to the shadow’s play on the skylight shades. As I slip back into sleep the gods turn their backs and continue to argue well into morning.

    Lou Faber

  • CORNFLOWER

    This morning, as I do most mornings, I took my paints and painted the sky blue. Today for some reason, I opted for Cornflower, it seemed to fit my mood and the neighbors cat, after considering it for a few moments seemed to agree with my choice, though she suggested tomorrow might be better served…

    Lou Faber

  • INCEPTION

    Morning arrived as usual today and we shook ourselves slowly from sleep to greet it. As we rose and drew open the curtains and blinds all that morning had to say, and said rather imperiously was “where is the coffee — you can’t expect a damn thing from me until I’ve had at least two…

    Lou Faber

  • NIGHT ARRIVES

    When we finally allow night to settle in around us, and we curl together in anticipation of sleep, we fit comfortably, but with no less passion than when we first did this, but a passion tempered by less need for flame, more for warmth and a gentle caress. We could not have anticipated this, and…

    Lou Faber

  • GHOST SITTING

    I sat with the ghost again this morning, the one who inhabits the body that was once my father. Ghosts find it difficult to speak from within living bodies, so mostly it squeezed my hand and offered an occasional weak smile or nod, said I looked good, but ghosts do have trouble seeing out of…

    Lou Faber

  • MUSING (4 HAIKU)

    Out the plane window a lake or a sea of clouds Why does it matter?   during an eye blink the butterfly spreads its wings galaxies collapse   Cats curl in furred sleep the moon crawls across the sky a monk awakens   leaves cling to the trees the rivers flow more slowly the stone…

    Lou Faber

  • RED EYE

    No matter how hard you look at maps you cannot find that evanescent border that divides weariness from exhaustion. You need no papers to slip across, no guards or fences will greet you, you may be well across before anyone notices. The return journey is harder still for you won’t have marked your way, and…

    Lou Faber