an old writer and his words

  • MORNING SONG (AWDL GYWYDD)

    The sun creeps down city streets,  dew retreats from the grasses and fills the air, with sweet scent until spent, the bus passes. The robin sits in the tree as worms flee into the lawn. The morning foretells the rain that will slowly drain the dawn. The city quietly wakes and stretching, shakes off the…

    Lou Faber

  • THE LAWS OF DREAMING

      Then, in a moment, it stopped without warning or obvious cause and it was suddenly dark. I thought of prying open the doors, stepping out into the tunnel, proceeding slowly down the narrow walkway eventually into morning. In the dark, the few bulbs remaining cast a faint glow. It was easy, I knew, to…

    Lou Faber

  • HEART OF NIGHT

    The morphology of dreams is partially reliant on the whims of a single god, and Morpheus is, to say the least, a truly fickle bastard who dangles before us joy and nightmare each always just out of reach, but never out of sight or hearing. So we are left to grasp like marionettes operated by…

    Lou Faber

  • SLOW TIME

    Time slows inexorably with the approach of sleep, the other world prepared for arrival as the awakened world falls away into ashes. Some say it is all dreams, but they have their own reality until they, too, retreat in the face of the great rising Bird that precedes the morning sun.

    Lou Faber

  • THE SHORE

    The sea steals the edge of the shore, replacing it with something familiar and yet different. It is much the same with the waves of sleep that lap at my dreams leaving fractured memories and holes left to fill with desire and imagination. Walking along the shore of dawn and awakening, I feel time creep…

    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

  • ROAD TRIP

    Two nights gone and sleep has come fitfully, and I stir each time I reach across the bed and you aren’t there, and there is only the faintest smell of bleach and cleaning solvent. I want very much to dream of you, to trace your cheek with dream fingers, to taste your lips on mine,…

    Lou Faber

  • DISEMBARKING NARITA

    You disembark quickly a small bow to the flight crew, and walk briskly to immigration. The young man glances at your passport and embarkation card hands flying with the stamps. The baggage is offloaded onto the creeping segmented belt yours the fifth through the heavy plastic flaps hefted onto the cart. The customs agent pauses…

    Lou Faber

  • LOVER

    There is a moment just after the prior moment, when the ticking of the clock on the nightstand is amplified, reverberating off the skylights, when the heat of your body is a blanket from which I never wish to emerge.

    Lou Faber

  • SLEEPING

    In the Virginia countryside men have dug an enormous hole. Some say it is for the stone to pave their streets, build their homes. Some say it was dug out of spite. The young child looking out the window of the plane knows and simply says it is a burrow where all the stars and moon…

    Lou Faber