an old writer and his words

  • NIGHT AGAIN

    It is well past midnight and outsidethe birds and frogs in the wetlandannounce the rain, unnecessary really,as it beats a steady rhythm on the roofand windows, pierced onlyby claps of thunder and the lightningwhich gives them short announcement.The light dances through the closedwindow blinds on what ought to bean ink black night, and I knowthe…

    Lou Faber

  • ALBLANY THURSDAY NIGHT

    It is a cheap moteljust off the highway,across from the mallnow almost empty of cars,a room not much biggerthan a bed, a desk anda small nightstand.The diet cola is sweatingdespite the breezeof the air conditioner,the television flickers.I have left a wake up callhoping I arise beforethe jangle of the phone,knowing I will not.Corso lies on…

    Lou Faber

  • YOU ODE ME ONE

    I should write an ode to my catbut she claims all of the good oneshave already been written and shewould not settle for less than the best.She says I could write an odeto the television remote or eventhe microwave oven, but I noteto her that an ode is to someone,something worthy, beneficialand she nods in…

    Lou Faber

  • DECLARATION

    Someone declared it Star Wars Day, but that is not fair to the progenitors of that series of films and countless spinoffs. Imaging Captain Kirk engaged with a Klingon in a lightsaber battle, Mr. Spock standing by and commenting “illogical.”. And for that matter, why not imagine Gort looking down at Klaatu and saying, “No,…

    Lou Faber

  • LOST LYRICS

    It is strange knowing that your visionis not what it was, not what youwant it to be, not necessarily yoursin the long run, one eye alreadysemi-useless for reading and distance. You adapt, get bigger monitors, a tabletto read the news, a magnifierwhen you need to hold newsprint in hand,a large screen television (okay, youwanted that…

    Lou Faber

  • ESQUIRE

    Even as a young child I imagined being a lawyer was a noble profession, spent Sunday evenings in front of the old Motorola TV watching Perry Mason stride up to the rail, stare into the witness’ eyes, with Paul Drake smiling in the first row. I tried to make my younger brother play Paul but…

    Lou Faber

  • TIME’S ARROW CURSED

      He will be 90 in a few weeks. He doesn’t think this is possible. He says he wasn’t supposed to live this long. He asks again how old he is. You’re still 89, I tell him. He has a relieved look on his face. Then he smiles at me, says, that means you are…

    Lou Faber