an old writer and his words

  • AMUSEMENT

    Life, he said with his ever present smile,is very much like an amusement park.The preacher, priest, rabbi standsat the ticket booth, gladly taking your moneyand telling you to have a good time,but reminding you of the penaltyfor not following the rules he or shehands you, neatly bound and printedin longer or shorter versions dependingon who…

    Lou Faber

  • SUZY

    What do you sayon the loss of a child?We sat in the loungedrinking a vile potionfrom a hollowed pineapple,giggling insanelyfor no reason.We wandered the tunnelsfaces painted,clowns in bedlam.We lay togetheron a mattresson the floor and listenedto Aqualungmy arms around youboth, but sleepcame slowly and we talkeduntil night ran fromthe encroaching sun. I can feel her…

    Lou Faber

  • NAME THAT TUNE

    He says, “I write songs without music, my head Is a libretto warehouse.” She says, “You string words like random beads, no two strands the same.” He says, “Symmetry is for those with linear minds who can’t see out of the tunnel.” She says, “Dysentery, verbal, is a disease to be avoided particularly by poets.”…

    Lou Faber

  • THE LAWS OF DREAMING

      Then, in a moment, it stopped without warning or obvious cause and it was suddenly dark. I thought of prying open the doors, stepping out into the tunnel, proceeding slowly down the narrow walkway eventually into morning. In the dark, the few bulbs remaining cast a faint glow. It was easy, I knew, to…

    Lou Faber