an old writer and his words

  • THE RIVER OF SADNESS

    I have written poems about my grandfathersand the lives I was told they led,having met none of them, but I knewI was appropriating their stories, claimingthem as my legacy although all I was doingwas adopting them, as their children hadadopted me, none of the stories truly mine,and I only family by the thinnest of tiesthat…

    Lou Faber

  • A GIFT

    As your birthday approaches, Mother,I should pause and thank youfor your bequest of grace, a gift youleft me on you passing ten years beforeI found you, found myself again.It was more than the helical part of methat finally became apparent, morethan a heritage imagined but unknown.It was something as simple asa college yearbook picture, for…

    Lou Faber

  • OLD BLIND DOGS

    There are times when music takes youto places and events long forgotten, likelistening to Old Blind Dogs and suddenlyI am again a new L2 with two yearsto the J.D. and bar exam, scratching byteaching SAT prep courses, when she calledand said the proverbial rabbit died and Ifinished and broke out in hives for thiswas planned,…

    Lou Faber

  • THE KEY

    “The key,” he said, “is to imbueyour work with poetic energy.”Those of us still botheringto pay attention at allto that empty husk of a oncewell-regarded, honored poethad no freaking idea whatthe hell he was talking aboutand we guessed he didn’t either.He was an easy A English courseand a few of us imagined ourselvesas successful writers,…

    Lou Faber

  • RECENT MEMORIES

    Looking through your wedding albumtwenty years after a midlife marriageyou are quickly awash in emotions.There is the joy of the moment, magnifiedduring the succeeding years, andthe rekindled memories of peopleand moments of the day forgottenor lost in the tumult that is attendanton any wedding, first or second.But there is a deep sadness as well,at those…

    Lou Faber

  • NEBULAS

    I can still recall the hoursspent dragging the giantDobsonian Telescope from the houseinto the yard, back or frontdepending on his demands.Then together we would aimthe beast, a simple tube really,with precisely placed lensesand mirrors, and he wouldpeer through the eyepieceand tell me what we were staring at.Actually he was staring, but hewould give me a…

    Lou Faber

  • FLOATING

    They are swimming around today and it is disconcerting. But they bend to no will but their own, so he must live with them. They have names now, the larger ones which makes it easier, for he can engage them in conversation, although it is all monologue as they have nothing to say. He hopes…

    Lou Faber

  • GALWAY

    I remember it as thoughit was yesterday, not eight years ago,the evening cool, the streetcrowded, the pubs along High Street:Freeney’s, The Front Door,Tigh Neachtain, Sonny Molloy’sstill warming up as the nighttightened it grip, the Guinnesswashed the taps, filled the pintsand people sat along the streetsome with guitars, one a bouzouki,and all with a song whichyou…

    Lou Faber

  • ACCORDING TO PLAN

    It was all carefully planned and scripted. It had been rehearsed and modeled to account for and correct any possible failure. This one would go off without a hitch. Her first certainly, but finally attainable after years of close calls but ultimate failures. Nothing would, could, get in the way of success. The music started,…

    Lou Faber

  • UNUSUAL

    I recall it wasn’t as cold as usualthat early November evening, Iwas standing nervously on the small deckin front of the Indian restaurant.This was going to be my fourthfirst date of my lifetime, notsurprising in the abstract, unlessyou realize that put me on an averageof one every twelve years.Fast forward almost three yearsand I am…

    Lou Faber