an old writer and his words

  • BUENOS AIRES ON THE GENESEE

    If this were Buenos Aires, if I were Borges, it would all make a great deal of sense. A man, older, and older still if you look closely, walks into an elegant hotel bar. A jazz quintet is playing, straight up, trumpet, piano, guitar, stand up bass, drum kit. The older man is wearing white…

    Lou Faber

  • YOU AGAIN

    I have come to recognize the nightas both dear friend and hated foe,purveyor of nightmare and delight.But now I wish that it would stay awayfor my once immortality is goneand for each night I now have one less day.But night always turns down my plaintive prayerand reminds me that I am still aliveand death is…

    Lou Faber

  • CINQUAINS

    The moonslowly risingswallows the nearby starsbut promises they will returnby dawn The sundigests the moona temporary mealthat will end with the fall of nightagain

    Lou Faber

  • JUST STOP

    “The problem,” she said, “the reasonyou cannot sleep through the night,is simple and easily fixed if youonly follow my advice for which,as you know, you are paying dearly.”This was what I had been waitingto hear after so many therapy sessions.I begged her to go on, thinking whatI would do with the money Ihad been spending…

    Lou Faber

  • REFRAMED DREAMS

    In my reframed dreamI am sitting in a smoky bar,bathed in the neon of Roppongi.with the sour smell of Sapporo and Asahiwafting up from the beer-damp floor.I don’t want to be here, wantto be miles and miles from this placein the shadows of Mount Wakakusawalking slowly through Todai-jiin search of something I haveyet to find,…

    Lou Faber

  • SAY WHAT?

    In the heart of the night Iam wandering the back streetsand alleys of old Kyoto when Istumble across old Joshu staringplacidly at his acolyte monksgathered closely around him.“I ask you all again,” he says,“does a dog have Buddha Nature?”The monks consider this at length,each afraid to respond incorrectly.In this dream I am a cat out…

    Lou Faber

  • WATCH CAREFULLY

    Stand on the edge of the wetlandas the sun sinks slowly on the horizonand the clouds burn a color that waterdoes not recognize at any other time of day.Watch as the flocks of ibis and egretscircle lazily then suddenly diveat odd angles onto desired percheson the bushes awaiting their arrival.The Great Egret standing tallon the…

    Lou Faber

  • LAUGHTER

    Each night the gallinules begintheir laughter, passing it from oneto another until you are no longer certainjust how many of them there are, butyou want to know just what comedythey are watching and put it on your list.But they are interrupted by the shadowsand the cry of the night Heronsdeparting for another night of huntingannouncing…

    Lou Faber

  • NOT HERE

    There were those January nights whenwinter wrapped us in its chill, but withdrewits frequent blanket of clouds, and Iwould go outside peering throughthe fog of my breath and lookinto the sky at the aurora borealis,watching the electrons danceon a black scrim dotted with myriad stars.Years later and miles away I missthe occasional night shows for…

    Lou Faber

  • NEXT STOP

    It is small, dark and desolate,tucked away in a cornerthat no one wants to visit.They all stop there, as required,but only rarely does anyoneget off and it always seemsa sudden, reluctant decision.Most don’t even peer out the windowswhen it stops there, they averttheir gaze wondering if anyonewill rise to leave, not wantingto be seen looking,…

    Lou Faber