an old writer and his words

  • SONNETS AND SALADS

    I would love to know the precise momentwhen the consensus of critics reachedthe tipping point, that lettuce wasno longer a green, but some lesser vegetable. That would be around the time thatArugula and romaine declared themselvessomething other than lettuce, leavingiceberg and Bibb as produce outcastswhile spinach, kale and chard openly declared their superiority over allof…

    Lou Faber

  • THINGS TO COME

    One morning last week I decidedto plant myself at a busy intersectionand begin reading poetry, mostlymy own, I have to admit. I was generally ignored, my usualstate, and that sadly of most poets,when a scruffy, bearded young manset up easel and paint next to me. The morning seemed to relishthe stillness of this urban way…

    Lou Faber

  • ANSWER SWIFTLY

    The question you will be called uponto answer requires careful thought,but you will be forced to respond. Would you rather live the restof your life in Lilliput or Brobdingnab? It may seem rather silly, for neitheris likely to occur, but that is not the pointand you cannot avoid responding. Of course you will have to…

    Lou Faber

  • POOR JACK

    He does not want to hear it,but someone needs to tell Jackjust how foolish this makes him look. It shouldn’t require a degreein hydrogeology or philosophical logicto realize that water, like all matter obeys the basic laws of physics,the concept of gravity being a principalthat says you don’t climb to find water. Some, quite unfairly…

    Lou Faber

  • NOT SLEEPING NOW

    The kid is late again today, but thatis sadly not unusual, the old man said.I ought to get rid of him, but I knowhe needs the job to feed his family. In the meanwhile, I’ll now haveto hobble down to the meadowand hope my collie, who’s as old as I,is up to the job of…

    Lou Faber

  • OUT OF THE NURSERY

    The one question that has never hada proper answer still bothers me.Actually it gives rise to multiple questionswhich synergistically expand my displeasure. I get she had a lamb, and I don’t questionwhy, nor why hers was little, full size lambsare far more common, and seriouslywhat did she do, bleach it every few days? But those…

    Lou Faber

  • SIPPING

    I spent much of the afternoon tryingto imagine you, spending a small partof an afternoon reading this poem. I have no clear picture of where you are,but the chair is well cushioned, andyou sit deeply in it, a glass of some amber liquid on the glass and metalend table, just within arm’s reach.I suppose, since…

    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

  • TUESDAY TRUTH: MISS MUFFET

    She is anything but little, huge wouldn’t be a gross overstatement. And I suppose you could call a overstuffed brocade cushion a tuffet if you stumbled here out of the Nineteenth century. And just for the record, she was munching on a well-aged brie and sucking down a Courvoisier-laced Greek yogurt smoothie. Oh, yes, did…

    Lou Faber

  • YAKUSAN SOLVES A PROBLEM 鐵笛倒吹 三十三

    If you want to ask of the path, do so, only without breaking the silence of the zendo. Seek the answer in a library without books, take sustenance from an empty bowl. Bodhi is a glittering gem that cannot be seen that cannot be held— do not stumble over it. A reflection on Case 33…

    Lou Faber