an old writer and his words

  • HUP TWO, MY ASS

    WARNING: A SHORT STORY, SO A LONGER READ THAN USUAL. BUT WORTH IT HOPEFULLY He wondered why he allowed himself to be in this position. Heknew that he didn’t actually allow it, he courted it. But you couldclaim allowance when you chose the lesser, by far, of two evils.As a child, his mother always told…

    Lou Faber

  • ANGLE OF INCIDENCE

    Dusk reflects dawn much asdawn reflects dusk, and it isour fear of night and deep needfor direction that sets them apart. Imagine a photograph of the sunhovering just over the horizon,compass-less we do not knowwhat preceded, what will follow. We prefer day and dawn, forit is then we feel in control,our thoughts leashed, our fearslocked…

    Lou Faber

  • QUESTION POSED, AWAITING A RESPONSE

    I stooped and spoketo a stone, asking the question.I was here before you arrivedand I will be her long after you leave.I held the sand in my handwarm from the sun, asking the question.I came after your arrivedand I will leave long before you are gone.I held the winter wind on the tipof a finger,…

    Lou Faber

  • BENEATH THE WAVES

    She says she has always wantedto swim like a dolphin, and she laughswhen others tell her that she can,in the Florida Keys and in Hawaii. She tells them that anyone, at leastanyone with money can swimwith the dolphins, but she wantsto swim like a dolphin as well. She wants to see the sky appearthrough the…

    Lou Faber

  • FLIGHT

    Feathers openedfingers extendedwings unfurledarms outstretchedhead poised skyward, thenhead poised skyward lifting up into a sun filled skydreaming of impossible flight.

    Lou Faber

  • NO BIALYS TODAY

    No one looked up when the Buddhawalked into the deli and took a seatat the counter, “Pastrami on rye, andlean, with mustard on the side, and twoslices of full dill and a side of slaw.” As he sipped the Dr. Brown’s CreamSoda, the waitress smiled at him,asked, “Are those robes comfortable,winter isn’t all that far…

    Lou Faber

  • THE POND

    Along the shoreof the pond wishingit was a lake,the anhinga proudlyshows off the small fishthat will be hismid-morning snack. The egret findsthis show of ostentationabhorrent and returnsto her searchfor bugs on the reedsfringing the shore. The alligator swimslazily off shorehoping we willsoon pass, andconsiders whetherhe wants only to sun,or if an anhinga wouldmake a good…

    Lou Faber

  • MEMORY

    We were told the average background color of the universe was turquoise.  She said “that’s because a coyote ripped it from the mountains outside Cerrillos.  But now they say it’s actually a shade of dark beige, drying mud colored.”  It was a glitch in the software, the astronomers said.  The coyote was unmoved. She sits…

    Lou Faber

  • IN CHORUS

    Deep in a small forest,a murmuring brook reflectsthe shards of sun slidingthrough the crown of pines,its whispered wisdominfinitely more clearthan the babbling of menholding the reins firmlyin distant cities of power. The birds know this well,sing of it in chorus, nature’smusic, jazz scatting thatthe graying clouds absorb,an always willing audience,and the wind rushing bycries through…

    Lou Faber

  • NIGHT APPROACHES

    The clouds this eveningare the deep gray that so longto be black, but the retreatedsun just below the horizonlingers long enough to deny them. The space, shrinking, betweenthe clouds, is the gray of promisethat the night will soon deny,and the birds who take overthe preserve, chant their vespers,each in his or her own language,uncommon tongues…

    Lou Faber