an old writer and his words

  • LUNA’S SONG

    Tonight, when the sunhas finally conceded the dayto its distant but ever larger kin,the moon will again singher ever waning songhoping we will joinin a chorus we haveso long forgotten,bound to the earthin body and in waxing thought. We will stop and listenperhaps, over the dinof the city, the traffic,the animals conversingwith the sky, our…

    Lou Faber

  • LAMBERT FIELD

    The gravestones, in random shapes line the hill the morning chillcreeps between them and onto the runway until washed awayby the spring sun slowly pushing upwardas the jet noise washes the hill unheard He passed away quietly in his bed ending his dreadof the cancer slowly engulfing him his vision dimmedby the morphine that pulsed…

    Lou Faber

  • NIGHT SKY

    We will the sun to riseit lifts from the horizonnature knows better in the depth of nightthe one billion trillion starsalways ignore us neutron stars collidegravitational waves washover the cosmoswhile a Goldilocks planetlooks on in childlike wonder

    Lou Faber

  • SITTING WATCHING

    Of course when we livedup north we wouldn’thave imagined this, sittingon our lanai watching the sunset the patchy sky ablazesipping small glasses of portand wondering if a lightjacket might be in order,as the beaver moonof November waxes slowly. The cat, curled at our feetcannot imagine the icy windhowling down the street,the foreboding clouds offeringtheir first…

    Lou Faber

  • COMING BACK

    He appears, rising from the horizonthe sun at his back, as if a miragetaking physical shape and form. He approaches slowly, your eyesstraining to separate himfrom the sun’s growing glow. You wonder if his is a holy manrobed and with a staff, walkingto announce his long awaited return. As he grows closer, you realizehe is…

    Lou Faber

  • CLOSE ENOUGH TO HEAR

    We sit around the small tablesglad to be out of the sunwhose midday glare seemsto blind the drivers slowlyapproaching the Jetty Park lot. A family chatters, the childrenlaughing at nothing, at everything,and nearby a dog lays outdreaming of a good walkand dinner, hoping for scraps. We can hear the waterof the inlet, the waves breakingonto…

    Lou Faber

  • DEEP

    Deep beneath the Arctic icethe whale songs shimmerin the harsh lightof a frozen sun.We strive to hear them,hear nothing, hear onlyour thoughts echoingthrough cavernous memories.With thoughts of what was,what we wish had been,we are ambient noisein a universe whichcradles hope, craves silence.Dolphins dream of dayswhen the sea was theirs,lives lived in a slow paradisea world…

    Lou Faber

  • CALLING

    In the dark heart of nighttime is suddenly frozen,the clock’s hands stalactitesand stalagmites, unyieldingdenying the approach of morning,leaving the sun imprisonedunder the watchful gazeof its celestial wardens. It is then you appear,call out to me, beg mebe silent, not askingthe lifetime of questionsI have accreted, providingmy own hopes andimagination for answers,but you have faces, notthose…

    Lou Faber

  • WINTER?

    In the early morning, beforeI open the blinds, beforethe sun approaches rising,I imagine the chill envelopingeverything outside, Octoberslipping quickly towardNovember, to the possibilityof rolling snake eyes, to snow. Winter always came that way,unannounced, and at leastby me, unwelcomed, thelast of the crimson, flameorange and ochre leavesdragged to the earthand buried ignominiously. But I know when…

    Lou Faber

  • CECI N’EST PAS

    This morning the skyis a painting by Magritteas it is most days, no titleCeci n’est pas un ciel. The birds rise fromthe wetland as Escherwould imagine them,the small wetlandonce a place thatmight be painted byMonet on a day whenhe cared nothingfor water lillies, but nowa jungle of Gauguin. We wait for the returnof the flocks…

    Lou Faber