an old writer and his words

  • LUNA PENDING

    From the heart of the nightthe moon appeared, or a smallcrescent of it, coy this nightas she is on a regular basis. She hinted at her fullness,but we knew that was stilldays off, the moon keptto a rigid schedule always. But her reticence this nightinvited the stars to takethe stage, some we rarely seewhether hiding…

    Lou Faber

  • STARS

    Once the winter starswrapped in their cloudy shroudshed frozen tears, unwillingto come out of hiding.We searched for them in vain,knowing our failure,retreating to the warmthof home, only to repeatthe failed effort on somany other nights. Now, here, the winter starsare usually fearless,some drowned by the moon,but she waxes and wanesand they reappear, the brightestnever fearing…

    Lou Faber

  • HE/HIM

    When he says he thinksthat it is rather queer,you wonder if he uses queeras a non-gendered pronoun,and if so you think hemight just be right. But what if he is a verballuddite, locked in an archaiclexicon, unable to dealwith an ever more complexsocial and sexual worldwhere what was is, and whatnever was is, and who…

    Lou Faber

  • OH, HELL

    You say that I am an apostate,hell bent, hell bound, soon to meetthe hell hound awaiting my arrival. You have condemned me for thoughtsthat deviate from your own, youare the guardians of the Word, you say, although whose words you guard is everharder and harder to discern, certainlynot those of He who died for saying…

    Lou Faber

  • MAYOKU THUMPS HIS STAFF

    If as you walkalong the wayyou come acrossa small bird’s nestfallen to the groundits eggs intact,you place itback on the branchwithout a thought. If as you walk onand come acrossanother small bird’s nestfallen to the groundits eggs intactyou place itback on the branchbecause it pleases you. One right thoughtand right action,one wrong thoughtand wrong action,how…

    Lou Faber

  • LOOKING FOR WORDS

    They say a picture is worth a thousand words. Perhaps so, but many pictures don’t travel in verbose company, and there are pictures worth far, far less, although some will search until the magic thousand are found. In Japan a story can be told in seventeen syllables, a picture painted with a single brushstroke. In…

    Lou Faber

  • REAR VIEW MIND

    I spent too much time lookingbackward, looking into the past,looking into the mirrorto frame a dream historyof my desires and fears.He called one morning, lefta message, “Mother died,more details will follow.”A mother his by birth,mine by legal act.I should have felt stunnedanger, I said quietly to myselfhe’s cocky, has issues, and wentabout momentary mourning.That is…

    Lou Faber

  • SIX FEET UNDER

    I remember the afternoonwas cold and damp, with a persistentdrizzle that escapedthe clustered umbrellas,the sky a blanket slowly sheddingthe water that soaked itas it sat out on the clothesline. I suspect you would haveliked it this way, everyone in attendance,everyone shuffling their feet,wanting to look skyward,knowing they would see onlya dome of black umbrella domes.…

    Lou Faber

  • KYOZAN PLANTS HIS MATTOCK

    In your endless searchfor enlightenment,the best course, the only courseis to stop looking. It may strike you,unexpected or it mayarise without your seeingas you continue your practice. You say there are many Buddhasand you are correct, but I saythere is but one Buddha and Iam also correct, and you arethat one Buddha and I amthat…

    Lou Faber

  • SIN

    A poet suggested that sinwas created by the Christians,wrong, of course, but perhapsjust being politically correctin not naming the Jews asits creator, or at leastgiving it a name and rulebook. And on the point of accuracythe poet might have notedthat the Jews createdthe Christians, for Jesuswas one of them, a reformerbefore Judaism would allowanything beyond…

    Lou Faber