an old writer and his words

  • MEOW

    Again today I am inside this so calledbox, unchanged perhaps, but whois to say, not you, still Schrodinger’s cat. Don’t bother to ask if I am deador alive, for like the Master Daowu, youcan bet that I won’t say, so there. And do not assume I know what I am,for if I were dead, I’d…

    Lou Faber

  • CENTER SEAT

    My friends have often wondered aloudwhy I claim to be most creative whenI am stuck on an airplane for hours. I have told them that the solitude,the lack of It is an interesting quirkof the internet, that birthand death are disconnected. Seeking out those born todayI found a long list, the dinosauramong which is Judy…

    Lou Faber

  • DEARLY DEPARTED

    I saw a deceased palmetto bugthis morning in the rest roomof our favorite coffee shop . It is the first we’ve seenin four winters here in Florida,and we didn’t mourn its passing. Forty-six years ago, duringa previous Florida life, my catwould find numerous palmettos, which she found made great toysto dribble across the terazzo floorsof…

    Lou Faber

  • PARENTHOOD

    Two headstonesName, rank, branchof service, dates. One New Jersey, oneVirginia, both Bittleneither certain. An email fromanother Bittle, neverknew my father but his wasWilliam, and inthat moment, James Owen becamea father yet againand I complete. And later stilla single picturehe in the back row and the mirroragrees that weare truly family.

    Lou Faber

  • TICK TICK TICK

    He awoke this morning to discover his mortality. This was a concept he had never beforeconsidered, it had never crossed his mind. He had never been to a funeral, came froma small family, an only child, his parents and grandparents still living, not that heever saw them, he valued his solitude. But this morning, while…

    Lou Faber

  • UNANSWERED

    As strange as it seems, I canspend hours in a used bookstorelost in the marginalia, and textbooks, particularly those in psych and sociologyare generally the most fertile,for those students, though they would never admit it, pursued those fieldshoping to find answers to their ownproblems without having to ask. Yesterday’s visit was particularly fertile,but it was…

    Lou Faber

  • REMEMBER THIS

    He awoke this morning, and wassurprised to be there, he said,because when you are ninety,and can’t get around at all,you don’t look forward to tomorrow,for it will simply be a repeatof today when nothing will happen.And it is harder still, he says,because he can’t remember much anymore,so it’s hard to say if todayis any different…

    Lou Faber

  • DUGO AND UNGAN MEET

    When your mind is ragingthoughts flowing, eddyingwhen you enter the zendowhat do you do in sitting? Do you take your stickand measure the waterto insure a safe fording,or do you sit amid the streamand let the floodwash over and around youdry and silent within? A reflection on Case 36 of the Iron Flute Koans

    Lou Faber

  • PAYING HOMAGE

    No one thinks it all that strangethat novels featuring James Bondappeared well after Ian Flemingagain made acquaintance with the soil. Nor are we shocked that Conan Doylehas seemingly taken up pen againand brought Holmes back to life,although many find those efforts regrettable. And yet when I take pen to paperand cast line upon line of…

    Lou Faber

  • ISRAEL’S JUSTIFICATION FOR THE BOMB

    Once it was fur hatsmen on horsebackswords and torchesour villages casting a faint glowfalling into dying embers,here, one whose skullbears the mark of the hoof,there an old onewho would go no farther. Once it was a helmettanks for horsesflames contained in crematoriacities taken for the deservingwe, merely ashesshoveled into a pit,here a tooth, its goldtorn…

    Lou Faber