an old writer and his words

  • THE NEW GODS

    From their two-bedroom apartmenton the outer edge of Cupertino,the Gods evicted from Olympusare creating their pulsating metahell.They know how easily we, lemmingsenchanted by the sparkling void,offer ourselves up in sacrifice, alwayswanting still another gigabyte,entranced by the idea of the Deusex machina, blind to our own truth.They promise us eternity, a heavenof a parallel binary universe,redemption…

    Lou Faber

  • NO BOIL

    Not so much watchedas casually gazed at, andnot a pot but a smartphone,which had best not boil. No ring, not this daylost in what, an absentmind, thoughts of self,not unexpected but wanted. Distance real becomesdistance virtual, emptylater explained, wordsof apology, forgiveness but a lingering scar thatwill recede, reappearthat laughter may coverbut never fully erase.

    Lou Faber