an old writer and his words

  • LISTENING

    We should have heardthe blasts of the trumpetsthat morning, encircling us,we caged in, imaginingourselves to be innocents. We should have heardbefore that day, but wehad chosen deafness,and the cries, the threatsof warning wereso easily cast aside. As the walls fellaround us we realizedthat we had no escapeand we cried to our Godas they cried out…

    Lou Faber

  • IMPENDING

    At the most opportune moment it will happen. No one knows when that moment will occur so they must be ever vigilant. It will come possibly without warning and they do not want to risk missing it, for it may never happen again. So they devise, rehearse and prepare an elaborate scheme so that it…

    Lou Faber

  • THIS IS WHAT IT IS

    It happened unexpectedly,but then perhaps it always happensunexpectedly, though in my firstthirty year effort it never fully happenedand its momentary flickerswere no more than quickly fading embers.This time it happened early on,arrived without warning, thentook up residence and broughtwith it a silence where breathsgrew synchronous and words,our stock in trade, were renderedsuperfluous, synapses magically linked.And…

    Lou Faber

  • PAUSE

    This morning a lone snowy egretperched stoically atop the leafless treerising out of the small preserve.Of what was it a harbinger, whatmessage was I needing, failing to hear?Was it in search of a dove amid endlessnews of wars still raging on,or was it repeating the unheard warningof what we had wrought in its onceedenic world,…

    Lou Faber

  • WRITTEN

    It was written for all to seebut went unseen as no oneentered the portal willingly,never sufficient curiosityto offset the foreboding.Everyone knew what it saidbut knowing and seeing areseparated by an unbridgeable chasm.It remained an imposed solitude,an isolation inherent in location,implicit in a world spinningoff its moral axis, time extendedand compressed, an irregular pulse.It was written…

    Lou Faber

  • AND TO YOU WE LEAVE . . .

    Of course we did not heedthe warnings, what did they know,and anyway we were sure we had won. History is a poor teacher, thatmuch we have demonstrated againand yet again, lessons never learned. It is how we got here, how wehave no clear path to leave here,things assumed lying in ruin around us. We are…

    Lou Faber

  • RENTAL

    The mountain reachesup grasping clouds.The river no longer runsred down its flanksnow traversedby a black ribbontwisting upward.The Hertz rentalhas a warningtaped on the glove boxdriving above 5,000 feetis prohibited, andat the driver’s risk.The Minolta sitsin the trunkas I denythe siren’s call. FirstAppeared in Raconteur, Issue 3, January 1996.

    Lou Faber

  • EFFECT

    The morning was indistinguishable from so many others. Lorenz was taking his morning walk around the pond or lake, it was of that intermediate size that could be either or neither, when in a break with his habit, he sat down on one of the four benches, and stared out over the water. He hadn’t…

    Lou Faber

  • SUBSTITUTE

    Language is becoming a poor substitutealthough I have no word for what it isthat it is a poor substitute for at present. I grabbed an organic bananafrom the refrigerator this morningand paused to wonder if there areinorganic bananas somewhere. My New York Times, as usual, offeredAll The News That Is Fit To Printbut I really…

    Lou Faber

  • ENSO

    In the interstitial momentbetween birth and deatha universe comes into existence,something that never before existedand existed always, newand well-known, unseenand visible for eternity. Measure it wellfor it is incapable of measurement,and ends without warningand precisely on schedule.In the momentary breaththat marks the transit,we proceed nowhereand cannot return to where we began. Reprised from March 27,…

    Lou Faber