an old writer and his words

  • THAT VOICE

    It is often little more thana faint whisper, distant, butnagging, on occasion in the voiceof a parent now long dead.You can strive to ignore it,may have momentary successin that endeavor, but it willrecur when you think that ithas finally been banished.It is persistent and that, morethan anything, is what makes itso irritating for you know…

    Lou Faber

  • YOU OF COURSE, OR NOT

    Someone, at a reading, asked me“who do you write for?”I avoided the obvious answer,“You” since he was there lesthe say someone dragged him alongmost unwillingly and my readingconfirmed his initial reluctance.The honest answer is that I writefor those who might stumbleacross my words, might seethem online browsing, or comeacross them in a coffee shopwhere I…

    Lou Faber

  • IT’S GREEK TO ME

    They would deny it, of course,just as their progeny do today,but so many of the ills of this agecan be laid at the feet of the Greeks.Two of their inventions have led usinto the hellscape we call thisabnormal world in which we live.The first, of course, wasthe invention of politics, politikathe Greeks labeled it,and aloneit…

    Lou Faber

  • STILL MOURNING

    I think about you often, lying besidemy grandparents on the hillsideoverlooking the Kanawha River,bathed in the utter silencethat only the dead can clearly hear.I think of you more often than shewho replaced you, she who laterreplaced me with her own, Ian adjacency, still useful butno longer fully or truly valued.I think of you lovingly, knowingfor…

    Lou Faber

  • PAY UP

    Look carefully, focus, is thata cathedral of dreams on the horizonor a nightmare future that flowsinexorably toward you, withno escape route, the priceof waiting too long, of assumingit wouldn’t happen here, itwouldn’t happen to you, couldbe wished away, could beignored without peril.What last prayers will youoffer to a God deaf to you,whose prophets you spurned.This…

    Lou Faber

  • ANTIQUEING

    Mother was an inveterate attendeeat flea markets and Goodwill storesand I would accompany her.She had a knack for antiques, wouldrummage for stereopticon slides,player piano rolls and anything elseshe thought belonged in the family roomshe had taken back to the late 19th century.She scouted the stalls, the darkcorners where Goodwill put thingsthey didn’t think would sell,…

    Lou Faber

  • A THOUSAND

    There is a far less obviousbut very important reasonto be a poet, a bit less so, but stilla good reason to write prose.Perhaps you will say that myreason is wholly and solelyaudience specific, and youwould be at least partially right,for if, like me, you are inthe process of losing your sight,or have already done so,…

    Lou Faber

  • YOUR TURN

    They said that we onlywanted to tear things down, thingsthat they treasured, wanted to maintain.That was only half true, becausewe knew that to build whatwas needed, you had to tear downwhat was there that would not,could not, be integrated.We did tear down someof those things they valued,but we built things that werebetter for the majority…

    Lou Faber

  • MOTHER TONGUE

    The English language is a joyif you have a truly twistedsense of normalcy, and the wordfashion can easily be its role model.As verb you fashion something,make, construct with an implicationof personal physical activity,an active verb after all.As a noun it is all a quitedifferent world, a world of clothing,of style and, properly, the prevailingstyle of…

    Lou Faber

  • ONE THING

    It is probably a good thinggranddaughter, that you have neverbothered to ask me what one, whatsingular piece of advice I wouldleave you with, not that I amanticipating an imminent departure. It isn’t because I doubt that youwould care about or believe what Ihave to say although I may wellstand corrected if you asked onlyout of…

    Lou Faber