an old writer and his words

  • VICTOR

    In our timeof never-ending war,punctured by the briefestlulls we now call peace,someone, someonesmore likely, will talkabout whom will bethe victor, to whomshall go the spoils.Bierce, that perpetualcynic, reminded usthat peace was a periodof cheating betweentwo periods of fighting.But no one pausesto consider thatin any war there areno true victorsonly the victimsunwillingly offered upin sacrifice to…

    Lou Faber

  • HISTORY

    Deep in the valley of memoryon the altar of Areswe sacrifice them, always youngeach generation we areAbraham unrestrained,the pardon always moments late.We are Olmecs, relying noton the sun’s passagebut on a mainspring tightly wound.Our gods hunger and mustbe sated lest we lose favorand their image change. In our boneyardpriests and victimsslowly decomposefade into earthwashed deepby…

    Lou Faber

  • EVERYTHING IN ITS PLACE

    He captured the stray beams of light in a small amber bottle and tucked it into a dark corner of a shelf in his basement. He canned a small bit of the sky, sealed it carefully, placing it in his pantry, for posterity. He stored his collection of dawns in and old cedar chest in…

    Lou Faber