an old writer and his words

  • ZERO

    It begana cloudless skyand two dogs runningdown the nearly empty street.It begana sudden heaterupting everywhereblown forwardinto suddenly parched groundunable to look upat the great cloud risingIt begansweeping upwarda new suncasting the oldin a shroudof ancestors.It beganthe vomitinguncontrollablein wavesebbing, neverrecedingIt begantwisted hulksragged monumentsa screamtearing earsmembranes rupturedIt beganwith an ending First Published in Ionosphere, Vol. 1, Issue…

    Lou Faber

  • HOME

    I don’t know what I expected to findstanding on the corner of a residential streetin Charleston, West Virginia, the domeof the capitol peering up in the distance.That is not surprising, the orange brick homewas much larger than I had assumed, but youlived there only a few years before leavingQuarrier Street to start a life of…

    Lou Faber

  • AND THE RAINS CAME

    It may sound odd, but what I miss mostis the spring rain, so short lived, alongthe roads in Highland Park in Rochester.You may say “but you live in Floridawhere the seasons are measured bywet and dry” and we do get rain, sometimesseemingly in Biblical proportions.and the Blue-winged Teals have returnedto our wetland now almost half…

    Lou Faber

  • MORNING SONG (Awdl Gywydd)

    The sun creeps down city streetsdew retreats from the grassesand fills the air, with sweet scentuntil spent, the bus passes. The robin sits in the treeas worms flee into the lawn.The morning foretells the rainthat will slowly drain the dawn. The city quietly wakesand stretching, shakes off the sleepit slowly comes back to life,the sun…

    Lou Faber

  • INSTAHELL OR METAHELL?

    Some might call us linguistic sadistsand it would be difficult to argue that point.We take a perverse joy in torturing language,as though trying to make it agree with whatwe imagine it should do in our delusional world.And I am willing (and quite able) to lay someof the blame on social media, that baneof modern existence…

    Lou Faber

  • A QUIET CORNER

    He would see the older man most morningsat the small table in the coffee shopoverlooking the street, hunchedover his New York Times, oftenpen in hand on the crossword.The baristas all knew him, if not by name,saved the table for him be various meansuntil he arrived, when they wouldprepare his carrot muffin and cappuccino.He strained to…

    Lou Faber

  • SEASIDE

    The ocean wind sweeps through the citya sudden rain washes sidewalk, shop, and street,carries both dreams and sins back to the sea. For the young child time slides by easily,life a campaign that allows no retreat.The ocean wind sweeps through the city, rattles church windows, so that all can seethe priest stripped of dogma. Christ…

    Lou Faber

  • GALWAY

    I remember it as thoughit was yesterday, not eight years ago,the evening cool, the streetcrowded, the pubs along High Street:Freeney’s, The Front Door,Tigh Neachtain, Sonny Molloy’sstill warming up as the nighttightened it grip, the Guinnesswashed the taps, filled the pintsand people sat along the streetsome with guitars, one a bouzouki,and all with a song whichyou…

    Lou Faber

  • BEAR WITNESS

    Some like to say guns don’t killpeople, other people do.But no one I have ever heard ofhas been killed by a volume of poetry,although one man hit by a carcrossing the street without lookingdid have a small book, Howlby Allen Ginsberg, in his back pocket.How many have died by hateor anger this year alone, somenot…

    Lou Faber

  • MOVING DAY

    In my dream last nightI was moving a matress, queen sized,probably with box springs butit was wrapped, from my parents’ hometo my apartment, but not usinga vehicle, just pushing italong the streets, obeyingall the traffic signals, usingmy turn indicators, althoughdon’t ask why a mattress hadturn lights, just accept that it did.It was arduous work, and…

    Lou Faber