an old writer and his words

  • POOR MAN’S SAUCE

    It was a four burner stovetwo of which still worked.Money was always tight,our parents refusing to understandwhat it cost beyond tuition, room and boardto be a student, forgiven for theyhad never gone to college.We became masters of cheap cooking,two steps beyond ketchup and waterbut the cheapest tomato saucewe could find, and sale herbswell past their…

    Lou Faber

  • BENT ARROW

    He would never understand how time developed a flexibility that defied the laws of physics. An hour, a minute, a second, they were all standard measures. Each the same as every other. Yet lately they had changed, flexed. For the most part they had gotten shorter, shrunken. He knew that wasn’t possible until he remembered…

    Lou Faber

  • CURFEW

    We sat in the cramped kitchenhuddled around the stovethe open oven door spreadinga faint warmth that barelyslid through the winter chill.The bare bulb in the ceilingstrained and flickeredfighting to hold as the generatorswere shut down, and darknessenveloped our small world.The sky was lit by the flaresand the odor of exploding shellsseeped through the towelsealed windows…

    Lou Faber