an old writer and his words

  • ANTIQUEING

    Mother was an inveterate attendeeat flea markets and Goodwill storesand I would accompany her.She had a knack for antiques, wouldrummage for stereopticon slides,player piano rolls and anything elseshe thought belonged in the family roomshe had taken back to the late 19th century.She scouted the stalls, the darkcorners where Goodwill put thingsthey didn’t think would sell,…

    Lou Faber

  • NOT THAT

    A writing teacher I admireonce told me that my truecreative self would only beunleashed if I stoppedwriting about what I knewand began writingabout what I didn’t know.I knew what he meantbut I can be a literal soulall too often, with yearsof practicing law and inthat state of mind I knewI was doomed to failurefor if…

    Lou Faber

  • IMAGINE THAT

    There is a certain joy in writing fiction,for many readers will assume the protagonistis the author or at least partially basedon the author, never pausing to considerthat the villains and lesser charactersare just as likely to be based to some extenton the author or bits of his or her life.And often the readers are not…

    Lou Faber

  • BLEEDING

    A violinist canlook at an Amatior a Guarnieriand hear a concerto. A birder hearsthe call of the songbirdand can describethe beauty of her plumage. A skilled photographerlooks through the viewfinderand tells a complete storywith one press of the shutter button. But it is the poetalone, staring at a blank page,who spills onto it joy and…

    Lou Faber

  • I WISH

    You probably imagine thatthe life of the poet is one of greatexcitement and adventure.There are moments that mightbe deemed exciting or adventurousbut those happen just as oftenin the lives of those who despise poetry.And believe me, poetry is not onlynot a career, it’s not a job unless yousit in some city square and offerto write…

    Lou Faber

  • I WONDER

    As a poet I would bemost interested in learningwhat you read when youare reading one of my poems. I know it sounds strange, after allI wrote it, but often when I readone of my poems it is differentin small or large waysfrom the last time I read it. I know that each reader in turnrewrites…

    Lou Faber

  • 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

  • BUT

    On more than one occasionsomeone has come up to meafter an open mic readingto tell me that they love my work. I am honored and tell them sobut curious as well, since Ionly read two poems, whichhardly counts as my work. I offer to sell them my bookat a substantial discount,but they inevitably tell me“Thanks,…

    Lou Faber

  • JOSHU ROTATES THE CANON

    If you ask meto grasp the DharmaI will read each wordas I unroll the scroll,but that is but a small partof grasping it.The rolling up,the placing back,the bow and the returnto my waiting cushion,each is a reverent grasping. A reflection on Case 74 of the Shobogenzo (True Dharma Eye) Koans

    Lou Faber

  • WORDS, WORDS, WORDS

    My mother surrouned mewith books, “read, read”she would endlessly say. And if I had a question,“Look it up, it’s why webought the encyclopedia.” I became a voracious reader,skilled at finding answers,never stopping to think. Now, years later, I knowwhy I had to read, whyI had to look things up. What she never said, butwhat she…

    Lou Faber