an old writer and his words

  • YAKUSAN’S LAKE 鐵笛倒吹 八十八

    When you travel from home and are asked if the lake on the shore of which you live is now full, what can you say. Will you speak of the rains that soaked your fields and what of the herd of water buffalo come to graze since you have left. The eye sees only now…

    Lou Faber

  • DROPPING

    As night settles in the clouds grow uncertain of their intentions. It is hard to realize that a boundary is silently crossed and summer has retreated into the past, leaving a new season in its wake, harder to know that tomorrow we will awaken into an autumn that at first seems no different then her…

    Lou Faber

  • HAWKING SANITY

    I am not the least bit certain why the red-tailed hawk chose that lamppost that day and peered down over the Expressway. Nature has her own logic and we question it at our own risk. Staring into his flaming eyes, for one small moment we both saw the foolishness rolling by below and alongside us.

    Lou Faber

  • FALLING

    I stumbled in love with you, she said, because I’ve always had this great fear of falling. It must come from my childhood though I can’t recall any specific incident, just the deep bruises my parents left when they fell, without warning, out of the love I thought had to last forever.

    Lou Faber

  • NATURE-ALLY

    I saw a coyote that night or more accurately, the coyote saw me I saw a pair of orange orbs moving closer and then farther away, then another pair and then the howl that announced they were done with me. The bees no longer visit the flowers in my yard, and unstung for weeks I…

    Lou Faber

  • VOYAGES

    Space is not the final frontier, of that I’m certain nor was Debussy right, though some does live between the notes, nor do I want more, what I have will suffice. No, space is the damned key on this keyboard that sometimes sticks anddrivesmetodistraction.

    Lou Faber

  • BETWEEN EARTH AND HEAVEN

    He is certain that the sky is always blue and when it seems cloudy it is just that Magritte has risen from his grave and brush in hand, painted the sky and clouds. She scoffs at the idea, knowing full well the clouds are merely rice paper cutouts floating on a gentle breeze.

    Lou Faber

  • THEN

    Before the after now is present. It was never like this before, it will not be again anytime soon, for there is no time soon that has yet to be or just gone by. After the before we find ourselves here and now.

    Lou Faber

  • DAWNING DREAM

      In the morning the sun will reach through our window and draw us out of sleep. Some mornings it sneaks through the clouds which it pushes aside, only to retreat again when we reach out and try to grasp it. It is the sun’s caress we crave, the promise of a lover yet unmet,…

    Lou Faber

  • WITH EYES WIDE CLOSED

    Between this moment and the next lies an unbridgeable gulf that the mind leaps with great ease, never looking back, or down into the abyss. It is only when the body stops, tries to grasp the space between, that everything collapses and falls into itself until all that is left is improbability.

    Lou Faber