an old writer and his words

  • YOU AGAIN?

    On the path around the pondthe male of a pair of Sandhill Cranesstares closely at us wondering, perhaps,which if any of us actually belongs here.We more than return his stare, fumblingfor our cameras that claim they are phones,wanting to capture this moment.The crane proudly approaches, getsinches from the arm-extended phone. Is hetrying to see what…

    Lou Faber

  • A TROIS

    Each night I crawl under the sheetscurled against the woman I loveand beside me slips your ghost.For sixty years you were no morethan a fleeting dream faceless, nameless,an infrequent visitor to my galleryof hopes, desires, and wishes.You never had a face, did Ihave one you could remember beforeI was plucked from you too soon, youlurking…

    Lou Faber

  • HOME

    I don’t know what I expected to findstanding on the corner of a residential streetin Charleston, West Virginia, the domeof the capitol peering up in the distance.That is not surprising, the orange brick homewas much larger than I had assumed, but youlived there only a few years before leavingQuarrier Street to start a life of…

    Lou Faber

  • SEEKING

    I always wanted to date a Bodhisattvabut despite my efforts I never did find one.I did come across a goddess quite by accidentand it is possible she could becomea Bodhisattva but she is too interestedin worldly affairs to make the gradeand she is certain she is at least two miracles short of sainthood.If she did…

    Lou Faber

  • THE ROCKPILE

    I was still a child, or mostly so,when he took me to the gamenot because he liked football butbecause that was what fatherswere supposed to do, he had been told.It was freezing that day in the stadiumthey called the Rockpile althoughthere were no rocks, just a fewchunks of its concrete shellthat had fallen off the…

    Lou Faber

  • HAGAR’S SON

    Did you so fear being Hagarthat you deemed me Esau, stolemy birthright, my name, my pastand cast me off into a wilderness?I knew nothing of this, your secrettaken with you to the grave as you wished.Did you consider that I might beIshmael, never knowing my father,adopted into a culture that wouldnever be mine, a child…

    Lou Faber

  • PELTIER

    They have youright where they wanted you.They worked hard to ensureit would have you there,ensuring that they tippedthe scales of the blindfolded womanso that their outcomewould be assured, andfor good measure, writingthe fiction they sold as factso why, Leonard, do youimagine after 47 yearsthey will let you breathe freehold your grandchildrenafter all they did to…

    Lou Faber

  • MOTHERS’ DAY

    This is the day I am supposedto honor my motherbut I am torn as to which motherI should pay tribute, or is itboth or possibly neither.One carried me, bore meinto life and departed,for my good, for hers andthe grave has sworn her to silence.Is it the woman whoadopted me, I her onlyuntil her new husbandgave…

    Lou Faber

  • THE WEIGHT OF MOURNING

    The weight of mourning defies precise measurement,and all of the rules of mathematics fail in an attempt.Grief rejects being placed on scales, there is nevera moment of pure equilibrium, only a teeteringthat always threatens to bring it all down in a heap.A million who are nameless and faceless is an agonyand yet eighty thousand with…

    Lou Faber

  • OF A WOMAN

    I wasn’t born a woman,I cannot bear a child,I cannot carry a fetus nine monthsI cannot feel the morning sickness,I cannot nurse a child once born,I cannot cease to be who I ambecause I had a child,I cannot be raped and made pregnant,I cannot be subject incestmaking me pregnant,I cannot go through the pains of…

    Lou Faber