an old writer and his words

  • ON THE MESA

    On the mesa you can step outsideand look up at the sky,clouds building mountainsthat threaten to eat the sun,swallow the moon whole. On the mesa you can step outsideand feel incredibly small,listen to the coyotes withthe ears of scared children,unable to run like the jackrabbit. On the mesa you can step outsideand look up at…

    Lou Faber

  • SHARED VISION, ONCE REMOVED

    Stevie and I were probably eightsitting on the front stoop of our flat,he the only one in third grade smaller than me.There was no snow to be seen,none in the sky, none on the frozenand still patchy lawn, just the windof an always cold December day.Christmas is coming, I saidaren’t you excited, with all the…

    Lou Faber

  • TROVE

    He says he has founda treasure trove of home movies8mm film in small metal cans,the sprocket holes intactfor the most part, my childhoodI thought captured on 35mm slidesthat I am too cheap to payto have digitized, my adoptiveparents ill at ease with a cameraassuming always back lightingwas preferable, and I admitit was nice to be…

    Lou Faber

  • XIANGYAN’S GREAT ENLIGHTENMENT

    Tell me, the master saidwhat did you knowof the worldbefore you firsthad words.If this perplexes youask the infant, newbornin his tears and smilesall of Dharmais laid outbefore you. A reflection on Case 10 of the Shobogenzo Koans (Dogen’s True Dharma Eye)

    Lou Faber

  • TO PROTECT THE INNOCENT

    I am there, a classroom,elementary or middle school,Charleston, West Virginia1930’s, girls in proper skirts,saddle shoes, the old womanat the front of the room,first day of a new year. “Jones”, a hand goes up,“Murphy”, another rises slowly,“Padlibsky, what kindof name is that, Jew, orsome kind or Ruskie maybe?”A small voice answersLithuanian, ma’am. A scene that neverhappened,…

    Lou Faber

  • STAGED

    At the moment of your birthmy son, I grew suddenly older,mortality became a realitythat I could no longer avoid. You could not imagine this,and I doubt others could seebut I knew and the infinitecollapsed inside the event horizon. Your brother came later, butthat death was incremental,a single cut among thousands,a step on a path you…

    Lou Faber

  • HEY TEACH

    She is long departed I imagine,and she would have had nomemory of me given the numberwho passed through her roomin the decades she stood impartingthe sort of knowledge that wassomehow tucked away, notforgotten, for it bubbled forthyears later, the aha moment. I could not forget her, whyperhaps she was a key to my passwords, the firstquestion…

    Lou Faber

  • A PERFECT STILLNESS

    You lie there, perfectly still,the morning breeze slides awayleaving the sun to stare down,and the birds fall into silence.  I gently touch the stone, feelyour cheek beneath my finger,see your face, the college yearbookphoto all that I have of you.  I speak silently to you, tellingof my sixty-seven years, of yourgrandsons and great grandchildrenand I…

    Lou Faber

  • HOME?

    The news, online and on paper,is replete with storiesabout adult children movingback in with their parents,whether because of the pandemic,or other circumstances, alwaysexpecting they willhave a room at the ready. Perhaps it is why wechose to have no spare rooms,sort of a preemptive strikeagainst an ill-conceived return. But as my cohort ages,I wonder if all…

    Lou Faber

  • ENDGAME

    He knew it was timeto call it a career whenthey handed him the listof what he could not say,what terms were verbotten,what topics were off limits. Once upon a time he watchedthe fight over textbooks,how they approached sensitivesubjects like race, war, equality,but he could teach aroundwhatever strictures theywould ignorantly impose. But now whole topics,entire aspects…

    Lou Faber