an old writer and his words

  • GABRIEL, AT HOME IN OHIO

    I saw an angel settle slowly over Akron dancing in the smoke rising out of the stacks of the ancient plant. It flitted, darting in and out of the gray haze, one moment she, the next he, and as the sun settled slowly down, for an instant no more than a cherub. It was not,…

    Lou Faber

  • TOKYO MEMORIES

    1. An older, silver-haired woman in neon green pants, a brown blouse and black shop apron stoops and carefully scrubs the alleyway outside her small shop. 2. Salarymen fill the tunnels of Kokkai-gijidomae station at 6 P.M., 7, 8, and in fewer numbers, 9, shuffling down the long corridors to the Chiyoda or Marunouchi Line trains,…

    Lou Faber

  • FISHING

    Many years ago, I would sit in a small boat and drop my hook into the river, and wait for the bass to strike. Those were the days when a large enough fish would be served at dinner, and smaller fish were thrown back to heal in the water. I no longer fish but the…

    Lou Faber

  • SIGNS OF AGE

    1. I wrote a note to remind me to remind you of that thing you didn’t want to forget, but I can’t remember where I put it. Have you seen it? 2. I am rapidly approaching that point when counting black hairs on my head is easier then counting years. 3. This year I finally…

    Lou Faber

  • MUSHOTOKU

    We spend far too much time clinging to what was as the flames fade, and far too little time feeding the fire and grasping what can be, what is.

    Lou Faber

  • CANYON

    He stands  on the edge of the canyon and peers into the river etched below. At first you think he is considering jumping, but his gaze is too studious, as if he is waiting for some particular moment. You are correct, he is waiting for a particular moment and when it arrives he shouts at…

    Lou Faber

  • THROUGH GAIJIN EYES

    1. From the window of the hotel bus the small, squared fields are a green that only painters achieve, deep, intense, unreal. As the bus inches forward along the Narita–Tokyo expressway the green forms neat rows set off by a shimmer of the gray sky mirror that bathes the young plants. 2. Tokyo is a…

    Lou Faber

  • RIDE

    There is a man standing at a bus stop. He waits at this bus stop each day, regardless of the weather. He is waiting patiently for a bus that will not come, the bus line was discontinued many months ago. He has a cast on his leg, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. It…

    Lou Faber

  • THIEF

    The sea steals the edge of the shore, replacing it with something familiar and yet different. It is much the same with the waves of sleep that eat away at dreams leaving fractured memories and holes left to fill with desire and imagination. Walking along the shore of dawn and awakening, I feel time creep…

    Lou Faber

  • TENT CITY

    From my window on the twenty-sixth floor they appear as so many blue roofs, arranged in small villages in Shinjuku-Chuo Park below. At 6:30 in the morning many older Japanese gather in sweater vests and hats despite the humidity to perform the tai chi ritual. Nearby hands and feet emerge from blue tarp tents crammed…

    Lou Faber