an old writer and his words

  • SAID THE LITTLE MAN

    NOTE: TODAY’S POST FOLLOWS BELOW: Dear poetry-lovers,          Thank you from the bottom of my heart for following my blog. Some of you have been daily readers since it began 9 years ago, some are more sporadic or more recent followers.  Thank you one and all. As you can imagine, it takes a fair amount…

    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

  • A READING

    He walks up to the podiumsmiling at the introduction he wrotedelivered by someone who likelyhad never read his work, and set his bookand notes down on the lectern.As he begins to read he cannot let onthat he is a magician poet for theywould demand a trick and allthat he is prepared to do this nightis…

    Lou Faber

  • SILENCE?

    You smile when you saythat my voice is muffled,that you cannot understand whatI am trying so hard to tell you.You have taken my tongue, the priceperhaps for saying what youmost do not want to hear.So you may laugh at me, atmy attempts to speak, but youwill never silence me for I canyell, I can write…

    Lou Faber

  • TOKYO SNAPSHOTS

    In the small yardof the matchbox housethe lone Ginkgotwisted by timefeels the barrennessof winter’s tongueand mournsits solitude. The apartment building looms upover the tracks of the Narita Expressthe balconies are deserted, savefor the laundry which flapsin the morning breeze,slapping with the gustsinto the small satellite dishesbolted to the railings. The ancient trees are twistedand gnarled,…

    Lou Faber

  • WIDOWER

    In the cold nightof another winterhe stares outacross the barren fieldswhich have long forgottenthe taste of the sun.He watches carefullyfor a signbut the naked branchdenies the breeze.He remembershow it once wasin the heatof the dying firethe sweetness of her lipslingering on his tongue.She is gone, has beenso long, her faceis hiddenby the gauzy veilof time.He…

    Lou Faber

  • BUSINESS SUITS

    “What do you think is the likelihoodof success in the long run,” she asks,and I watch the fly land on my forearm,perched on hairs that barely bend under his inconsequential weight.His wings are a perpetual twitch,almost unseen, and felt only as a faintbreeze in my imagination, while a world is created, a reality collapses, a…

    Lou Faber

  • A WELL REHEARSED SILENCE

    Of course there is something I oughtto say, moments like this require it,it goes without saying, painfully. I practiced lines for hours, rehearsedin my dreams for weeks, knewfor years I’d be rendered mute. My tongue swells, threateningto escape my mouth or take refugedeep within my esophagus. Your silence is only compoundingmy anxiety, how can I,…

    Lou Faber

  • SPRING

    She says her favorite monthis May, when spring’s gripis tightest, but most of allshe cherishes the rain.She is intimate with the rain,there is a privacy that onlyshe can concede, if she wants.She can take a drop of rainand it is hers alone, she needonly share it with the sky,it is always clean on her tongue.She…

    Lou Faber

  • INTO THE BRUSH

    I have carefully peeledback the skin of a hundred snakesand left their twisted formscurled around mesquiteas so many skirts. Canadia geesefollow carefully worn pathsacross an October skyundeterred by storm cloudsgiving chase from the west.A wolf wanders downfrom the tree line to the edgeof the highway. She can tastethe approach of winter,bitter on her tongue, her…

    Lou Faber