an old writer and his words

  • WHITE BREAD

    He was nondescript, innocuous. He named his dog Dog. His cat was called Cat. He grew daring with his parakeet and named it Wings. He wore beige from head to toe. Even his Sunday best, his “weddings and funerals suit” he called it, was beige. People wondered if his underwear was beige. He swore that…

    Lou Faber

  • CERTAIN MORNINGS

    There are morningswhen I wishI could be the cat,sit in the corner,close my eyes andwatch the worldsuddenly disappear.The cat breaksmy reverie, purringthere is room for oneand this roleis all mine. First appeared in The Flying Dodo, Issue 4, January 2023https://fantasyfantasywave.wixsite.com/my-site/louis-faber-certain-mornings

    Lou Faber

  • THE OLD ROCKER

    I reached the point in lifewhere I know the Byrds were right,I was so much older then,I’m younger than that now, andfor good measure Jethro Tull knewI was too old to rock ‘n’ rollbut far too young to die.And yet I am still inchoate,a product of the Big Bang, stellardust accreted temporarily.And the Webb Space…

    Lou Faber

  • PHONE HOME?

    Perhaps we spend too muchtime wondering if there arealiens of the ET sort among us. Let’a face it, if they areadvanced enough to get here,they ought to be able to fit inwithout standing out, sosorry Hollywood, it may makefor an exciting movie butit just isn’t all that likely. And before you remind meof UFO sightings,…

    Lou Faber

  • SEPPO’S POISON SNAKE

    When you lookin the mirrorwhat do you really see?If you say yourselfyou are blind.If you say nothingyou have graspedthe heart of the Dharma.If you shatter the mirroryou have found Nirvana. A reflection on Case 24 of the Book of Equanimity 従容錄, Shōyōroku

    Lou Faber

  • LEFT HANGING

    Why is it that so many songwritershave an intense need, a desire really,to leave the listener wonderingin frustration at how the story ends. I can forgive Leonard Cohen for hisHallelujah for no one is quite certainhow many verses he wrote, althoughmore than 80 seems to be the number,so perhaps a missing one or tenconcludes the…

    Lou Faber

  • WRITTEN

    It was written for all to seebut went unseen as no oneentered the portal willingly,never sufficient curiosityto offset the foreboding.Everyone knew what it saidbut knowing and seeing areseparated by an unbridgeable chasm.It remained an imposed solitude,an isolation inherent in location,implicit in a world spinningoff its moral axis, time extendedand compressed, an irregular pulse.It was written…

    Lou Faber

  • WETLAND BRAVADO

    He was the smallest, thatis what drew you to him.Still, he had a certain bravadoa serious strut to his walk.Perhaps it was becausehis father was there, a protectorin part, in another part a challenge.He knew his mother was lookingso it became a matter of pride.He could imagine himselfa father one day, his own childrentrailing behind…

    Lou Faber

  • TIDY

    It was simple by definitiona neat orderly universe, but thena Big Bang and all of the planningwent out in a monumental flash. He could easily have corrected ita simple thought would havedone the trick, but He made the rulesso He had no choice but to abide by them. It was truly a godly mess, Hewould…

    Lou Faber