an old writer and his words

  • FORGIVE ME

    There is always a certain levelof guilt when the Amazonpackage arrives, as they didalmost daily, since Imostly avoided storesduring the pandemic.My guilt arises at the sightof the face of the driverrushing to leave the package,leaping back on the truck,knowing he is graded onthe speed at which hecompletes the far too long run,relieving himself in a…

    Lou Faber

  • A CITY OUT THERE

    Somewhere out therein a city strugglingthere is a man dancingin the reflected lightof a street lampto the sound of the wind,there is a couplecaressing each other,wishing for just onecigarette,there is a babycalling for its motherfor a meal,there is a carparked in a drivewayits lights fadinginto the bleakness,there is a neon signflashing OPENinto the void of…

    Lou Faber

  • EVER FAITHFUL

    We are, after all, merely humanso we are fraught with questionsand lacking answers, willingto take things on faith on occasion. Take God, for example, althoughsome say He is uniquely exemplary,we want to know if God is a he,a she, or to cover all our bases, a they. And when we ask for a sign weoften…

    Lou Faber

  • SIMPLY MAGIC

    The magic of jazzis not what you think –there is nothing randomeven in the wildest, inthe acidest of solos. Cacophony is randomnessand the key to jazzis to see theinvisible logic,read the mind,be the mindof the musician. It is zen, but onlyif you stop searchingand just be in itsmoment.

    Lou Faber

  • THE SURANGAMA SCRIPTURE’S NOT SEEING

    It happens every day,when I arise from the cushionand look, I see myself there.If you look, you say you see me as well.It will happen one daythat when I arise from the cushionand look I will not see myself.If you look, you will say you see me,and I will nod in agreement.Each day when I…

    Lou Faber

  • SONG OF THE UNIVERSE

    It was a certain rhythm that he lovedhe felt it in total silence, it fadedin the presence of sound, a doumbekof the soul he would describe it. He remembered how it was beforetheir one God rendered him and his kindmere mythological creatures fit onlyfor poetry and dusty library shelves. He would have his revenge some…

    Lou Faber

  • UNDERWOOD

    When I stood in Hemingway’s studyin Key West, I was certain thatthe old Underwood portable probably hadat least one if not moregreat novels in it, and Iwould gladly be the one to unburden it.Then I paused to wonderwouldn’t Ernest have taken hisUnderwood portable with himto Ketchum, Idaho, and how couldMary be sure none of his…

    Lou Faber

  • TY NEWYDD

    People wondered why I traveledto a remote part of Walesfor a writing workshopwhen there were a limitless supplyat home or in touristy places in the US.I could tell them I was impressedwith the two teachers, I could sayI was to be in Lloyd George’s home.I could say all of that, but in truthalthough I didn’t…

    Lou Faber

  • MESA

    This nightin cold moonlightearth rises upclouds float downghosts walk the margin.Old ones singnow shall be thenolder ones still singthen shall be onceto wolf and coyote.In this season of north windssun’s heat barrenspirits rise updreams descendman lies interspersed.Women singwe are bearersmen singwe are sowers. First appeared in Dipity, Vol. 3, April 2023

    Lou Faber

  • STOICS

    This afternoon the vulture couplesit stoically on the limbsof the long dead tree in the preserve. The rain was torrentialas we watched from the dryconfines of our home, theystood soaked to the featherswith nowhere to hide, knowingthey couldn’t out fly or out climbthe purging clouds, so they setsoaking wet and stared at us. And then…

    Lou Faber