an old writer and his words

  • ELEGY FOR A POET

    (for Allen Ginsburg) You died quietly in your bed friends gathered around the cars and buses of the city clattering out a Kaddish to a God you had long ago dismissed as irrelevant. We would have expected your to howl, to decry the unfairness of it all, but you merely said it is time, and…

    Lou Faber

  • THE GREAT HERE AFTER

    When it’s time, i suppose I’d like to go like my dog and cat, slipping away as they were gently stroked. It could be like that, there’s a chance but I can’t count on it, no one can. I never did try skydiving, too late, now and so a failed or fouled chute won’t be…

    Lou Faber

  • DYING TO MEET YOU

    The single greatest problem In writing about death Is that everybody does it, dies Sooner or later, so it’s hardly All that special unless, like Twain, it happens more than once. But perhaps multiple deaths are not All that uncommon, for Buddhists, Among whom I count myself It happens all the time, karma demands it.…

    Lou Faber

  • THE VISIT

    I have never visited the grave of my mother, either of them, which seems most odd primarily to me. The mother I never knew until it was too late to know her is buried in Charleston, West Virginia a place i intend to visit, grave site included in the coming months, to see where my…

    Lou Faber

  • MOURNING

    You never know how the news will arrive you are just certain of its arrival. You know it on some level, even as the event is happening, but that doesn’t blunt the piercing tip of the blade that finds the soft spot in you and cuts deeply. You hoped for a miracle for her, for…

    Lou Faber

  • ADOPTION FOR DUMMIES

    There is one thing that none of the books on discovering who you are when you are adopted bother to tell you. If they did, it wouldn’t change anything, but it is a burden you assumed you’d easily bear that grows heavy with time. What they don’t warn you is that you will discover yourself,…

    Lou Faber

  • RISHO’S POEM 鐵笛倒吹 三十語

    Have you been here – who will know? The sun and moon record your journey. What you release gathers joyously around you, what you cling to flies off on the slightest breeze, mountain and cloud enfold each other. Will you join them? A reflection on case 35 of the Iron Flute Koans

    Lou Faber

  • SELF?

    There is one thing that none of the books on discovering who you are when you are adopted bother to tell you. If the did, it wouldn’t change anything, but it is a burden you assumed you’d easily bear that grows heavy with time. What they don’t warn you is that you will discover yourself,…

    Lou Faber

  • GROVE

    Living in a bamboo grove, she said, is very much like living in an old house. Look up at noon, into the canopy and imagine you see rays of light piercing the ill-thatched roof. Listen to the growing winds or autumn and hear the ghosts of the old house making their way up creaking stairs.…

    Lou Faber

  • LIVES

    I have lived many lives, too many to count, and I remember bits and pieces of each, but not necessarily to which life this bit or that bit should attach. It is why I run them together, view them as a singularity, easier to cope even when I know it is a nice delusion. I…

    Lou Faber